


Idaho

by Ithiliana



Series: Behind the Scenes [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: BDSM, Lotrips - Freeform, M/M, Power Play, Roleplay, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-26
Updated: 2009-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiliana/pseuds/Ithiliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to Caras_Galadhon and Savageseraph</p>
    </blockquote>





	Idaho

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Caras_Galadhon and Savageseraph

**Fault**

“A fracture or zone of fractures in rocks of mappable size along which there has been displacement of one side relative to the other.” http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/glossary/gloss2geol.html)

**Day One**

David waited until most of the passengers had left the plane, then pulled his bag from the overhead compartment and strolled out into the Spokane airport. He didn’t feel like jostling through a crowd or having to watch out for other people after traveling over twenty hours. He should be tired, but the thought of seeing Viggo and Sean again seemed to be working like a jolt of electricity. 

Following the signs, David walked to the baggage claim area where Viggo and Sean would be waiting. It had taken more effort and money for him and Sean to arrive within a couple of hours of each other, but since Viggo had to drive 300 miles to pick them up, it seemed worth it.

David had changed planes twice, going from Sydney to San Francisco, San Francisco to Seattle before getting into the plane that went up over the jagged blue mountains rivaling ones he’d seen in New Zealand and then almost immediately set down among rolling hills. The plane had been tossed around going over the mountains, and the pilot had seemed to take a great deal of gruesome pleasure in talking about some volcano that’d blown up in 1980. 

Then they’d flown by, not over, a mountain, that was unlike anything David had ever seen. He couldn’t remember the name, but he’d thought of Caradhras seeing the bulk of it rising over the plane, the knife-like rocks cutting the sky, bleeding blue onto snow whiter than the clouds. Seattle had been under heavy clouds, from what he could see from the terminal, but these mountains soared above them.

David shook his head, forcing himself to pay attention to where he was going. He’d walked past the clearly posted door and had to backtrack. Going through the revolving door, David could see Viggo, across the room, standing beyond the luggage carousel. Then he saw Sean sitting slumped in one of the chairs, head in hands, bags stacked close by. Viggo was looking at the door at other end of the echoing room. David was able to enjoy the walk across the floor, looking at them before they saw him. 

Viggo’s hair was longer than the last time they’d been together, at the premier events of Two Towers, and he was letting his beard grow again. He was casually dressed, worn jeans and t-shirt, like most of the men David saw in the terminal. Sean had shorter hair than the year before and was wearing slacks and a shirt in his favorite color, blue. David could not see his face

Viggo turned and saw him. They stood grinning at each other, David, tired and hyperaware of publicity since the premier, unsure of what he should do. Viggo shrugged, then threw one arm around him in a casual hug.

“Welcome to the Pacific Northwest,” Viggo said. “Did you check any bags?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go. Sean?”

Sean didn’t look up. “What?”

Viggo said, “Time go to.” Viggo picked up one of the stacked bags, and David, looking with concern at Sean, grabbed the other. 

“Is he all right?” asked David.

“More or less. On the last leg, the plane was a small one, and that affects him more. And he took some prescription drug this time. Sean, can you make it to the car?”

“Uh-huh,” Sean finally dropped his hands and stood. His face was pale. He nodded at David, and followed Viggo out to the car. Viggo put the luggage in the trunk and Sean in the front seat. David climbed in back.

David watched as they left Spokane, moving almost immediately into farming areas, scattered farmhouses alongside narrow roads surrounded by hills green with what Viggo said was wheat and something called alfalfa. 

Sean was leaning back, not talking. 

Viggo would occasionally tell him a name or give him information about the widespread towns, but David didn’t even try to track it all. He was starting to feel his exhaustion and although he could see the country was beautiful and vast, it was just too much to take in at the moment. Maybe later.

They stopped to eat dinner in a small town, a scatter of one-story dusty buildings ranged on both sides of the interstate. Two blocks off the highway, the town ended at a bluff that soared over a huge river. The waitress at the restaurant was friendly and encouraged him to try what Viggo claimed, straight faced, to be the regional specialty, something called “chicken fried steak.” 

The meal was…different. A huge battered, deep fat fried, steak (he supposed it was beef although it tasted very different from the beef in Australia) hung over the sides of the plate and was arranged on top of a foundation of mashed potatoes and gravy. 

David looked at it when their waitress set it in front of him, then looked at Viggo when she’d left. “Regional specialty?”

Viggo nodded. “If you don’t believe me, ask anyone here. They have fights over whether the gravy goes on top or underneath, even write letters to the editor.”

David poked it dubiously with his fork. “Huh.” He couldn’t get through more than a third of the gargantuan meal, but he couldn’t actually call it bad, he guessed.

Sean only ordered tea and toast, but revived enough during the meal to abuse the tea they were served. David had to agree with him that a skimpy bag dumped in a small metal pot of warm water that barely filled one cup was an abomination. Viggo drank his coffee and ignored them both. 

Outside the restaurant, against the dramatic backdrop of rocks, bluff, and blue sky with huge thunderheads, Viggo took their pictures, first David, then Sean, then the two of them together, David kneeling, Sean sitting on a boulder. 

Not long after they got back in the car, David undid his seat belt and lowered himself onto the back seat. He felt drugged. As Viggo announced they were coming to the Idaho/Washington border, David decided to rest his eyes. He could never really sleep on planes or cars, but the excitement was draining out of him, leaving him exhausted.

He had no memory of the trip from then to when Viggo shook him.

“David….David…wake up.” Viggo’s voice.

“Mrmngungle,” David managed. He groped around for some covers to pull over his head. They were supposed to leave him alone in the morning, damnit.

“David, we’re home. You have to get out of the car. Then you can go to bed.”

David tried to pull away, but Viggo was holding his arm.

“Sean, can you help?”

“I think so.”

Dimly, David felt someone pull him upright, and maneuver him out of the back seat into someone else’s arms. He tried to stand and open his eyes, but could only sag against someone whose arms were around him.

“Jesus, how long was your flight,” Sean said as he held him up.

“Twenty hours,” David mumbled, legs rubber. “Can’t sleep on planes.”

“That must be the only place. Come on.”

Sean guided him up some steps and through a door into what David blearily realized was a big room, a kitchen, paneled in wood. 

Viggo’s voice came from behind. “Take him straight upstairs, the bedroom’s on your right. I’ll bring the bags.”

David stumbled up a flight of stairs with Sean’s help and was lowered onto a bed. He felt hands ease his clothes off and cover him, heard footsteps leaving, and was alone in the dark. He groped around until he found an extra pillow, pulled the covers up over his head, then fell back into sleep. 

**Fault cont'd Day Two**

David woke up, feeling as if he’d been drinking tequila again, his head refusing to connect completely with the rest of him. He was alone in bed, in what must be Viggo’s bedroom, and by the light, it must be late morning at least. Maybe afternoon. 

David threw off the covers and rolled out of bed. He walked closer to look at first one, then the other. They were Viggo’s as he’d thought. One was abstract—white, blue, and grey reminding him of the mountain he’d seen from the plane, Rainier, he suddenly recalled the pilot calling it, and the scene on Caradhras. The other was disquieting, coils of red and black, the feeling of movement, stark and angry in the cool quiet room. David hoped it was abstract but feared not.

David found his bag in a corner by Sean’s, pulled out his stuff, and went out the door to find a bathroom. After he showered and shaved, he went back to the bedroom, pulled on jeans and a black t-shirt and walked downstairs barefooted. The solid floors did not creak, were cool and smooth under his feet. The stairway was large, with wide treads, a carved bannister on the open side, and ran straight down, depositing him in the kitchen. 

Sean and Viggo were sitting at a round wooden table, backs to the stairs, facing a big picture window. David recognized the room they’d entered last night—high wooden cabinets, stove, refrigerator, sink, and, he realized, a large black wood-burning stove in one corner. 

David stood at the bottom of the steps, hand on the globe that topped the last bannister post, and stared. He didn’t believe it. “Does that really work?” he asked. 

Viggo turned, smiled at him. “Of course. Which is useful when the power goes out. I have a small generator but it can only provide so much power. Winter storms here often bring the powerlines down. Ice, treebranches, wind. It can take a day or two for the company to get this far out from town. Remind me to show you where the flashlights are although outages aren’t usually a problem in May. Unless we get a bad storm.”

David shook his head, a bit overwhelmed. He’d been born and raised in Sydney. He knew from friends and reading that people today might choose to live in similar conditions, but he had never realized Viggo did. No wonder he hadn’t complained about the conditions in New Zealand.

After David had finished eating, Viggo offered them a tour of the house. David followed Sean out carrying his last mug of tea. He hadn’t realized that Sean hadn’t been to Idaho before.

The house was two stories although the top one was smaller than the first. Downstairs, besides the big kitchen, pantry and bathroom, the original smaller rooms had been remodeled into two large rooms that took up the whole first story and shared a common fireplace. On the north side, a large room was Viggo’s studio. Tall windows ran the entire length of the wall though, as Viggo explained, skylights were not practical given the winter weather. Through these windows, David could see nothing but fields stretching to distant fences, and hills covered with trees. 

The other room was completely different. Oriental rugs layered the floor, bookshelves ran from floor to ceiling, and trees shaded the smaller windows. Leather chairs and a sofa were arranged around the big fireplace. 

  

  1. “This is more like it.” 
  



Viggo sat on the couch, but David sat on the hearth, running his hand over it, fascinated. As far as he could tell, it was made of rocks mortared together, smooth but of different sizes, colors, shapes, not regular. Uneven, but oddly comfortable to sit on. Like sitting on the ground.

“How old is this house?” he asked.

“When I bought it, I was told it was seventy years old,” Viggo said. “The realtor couldn’t tell me much about the family because they’d been very reclusive. I did some work, but the core of it is original. The fireplace, for instance. The rocks came out of the streams.”

Sean snorted. “Not very old then,” he said.

“Old for Idaho,” Viggo corrected him. “But you’re right. Not in relation to England.”

“I hadn’t realized how far away from civilization you were,” Sean said.

“Not all that far. The nearest town is…”

“I’m talking about the whole state.”

“Compared to England,” Viggo said mildly. 

Sitting in library, finishing his tea, David thought how strange it was to board a plane on one continent and end up on another in less than 24 hours. The time difference was really space, physical distance. 

They sat in silence for a few moments. 

Sean said, “Any ideas for dividing things up this time?”

“You didn’t like how inside/outside worked last time?” Viggo asked. “Of course, it’s my house this time, so that means...”

“It was all right,” Sean said. “Just thought we might try something different.”

David stared at the tall grandfather clock across the opposite wall. Time. Space. Unlike contemporary digital clocks which were just numbers, the old clock showed time as movement around a circle, a globe he suddenly thought. In a way it wouldn’t really be different, but “What about time,” he said. 

“Time, huh...like, what, so many hours a turn?” Sean’s voice was reflective, his body relaxed, legs stretched out in front of him. “Twenty-for hours in a day, can’t count sleeping, say, midnight to six, so…”

David interrupted Sean, surprising himself. “If we do it that way, I want 6 am to noon.”

Sean smiled at him. “Really? Why?”

“To sleep in. Period. No discussion, no bartering, no scenes,” David said. “You can do whatever you want--but that would be my time.”

Sean looked at Viggo who shrugged.

Viggo said, “I always ride first thing in the morning, right after sunrise, you’re welcome to join me. And David can sleep.”

Sean nodded. “Maybe. Sometimes.”

“So, roughly speaking, noon to midnight, more or less,” Viggo said. “We could take it in turns. Or break it up during the day.”

“While we’re on the subject,” Sean said, he stood and went out to the kitchen. He came back carrying the bag David had picked up in the airport. He set it down and zipped it open. “I’ve brought some stuff….something old, something new…the old is the harness,” glancing at David.

If Sean hadn’t brought it, David thought, he might not have said anything. But he’d thought about that day for some time afterwards, especially what Viggo had said at the end. David set his mug down on the hearth, stood to move quickly across the room.

He’d been on the receiving end of Sean’s move often enough that he thought he could imitate it. He grabbed Sean’s shoulders, shoved him back against the wall. Stood, looking into those green eyes, and spoke slowly. “Speaking of that particular game, if you ever take me out there and leave me hanging like that again, that will be the last time I play with you.”

Sean lost his grin, looked surprised.

“It’s a little late for a complaint, isn’t it?” he asked..

“I’m not making a complaint.”

Sean’s arms went around David’s waist, pulling him close, hands sliding under the waistband of his jeans. “Is it a challenge then,” Sean said softly.

David replied as softly. “It’s a promise.”

Sean twisted, hooking David’s feet out from under him, falling forward. David crashed onto the floor with Sean on top, feeling the impact from head to toe, breath jarred out of him, wondering if he’d cracked a rib. Or two. Luckily he’d landed on rugs and not the wood floor.

Stunned, David had more empathy for Orli’s story about the steps of Moria. By the time he thought he could move again, Sean had pinned him, hands over his head, and was biting and sucking his neck, hard enough that David figured he was already marked. Sean’s mouth moved down, biting down on more flesh, sucking harder.

David forced himself to lie passively a few minutes, then, when he felt Sean’s grip relax slightly, he bucked up, breaking Sean’s hold on his arms then shoving him off. David rolled, came to one knee, and managed a clumsy tackle that ended with Sean underneath, face down.

Sean twisted under him, grabbed David around his shoulders, levered him over onto the floor and rolled over on him. David kept fighting but realized that Sean had been holding back before. David didn’t think he’d break Sean’s hold again. All he could manage was to keep Sean from doing much of anything besides holding David down. 

After a few moments of the stalemate, Sean spoke. “Viggo, you want to help out here?”

Viggo knelt down, wound an arm around Sean’s chest, and pulled him off David and over onto the floor, pinning him in turn. 

“What the fuck?” Sean sounded breathless for the first time.

“David, his legs,” Viggo said.

Gasping, David rolled up, threw himself across Sean’s legs, and tried to brace himself. But Sean made no immediate move to fight back or to free himself, relaxing under them.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Viggo smiled down at him. “I agree with David,” he said.

“What about? What happened in that game? He could’ve used the safeword. You know that.”

“True. As I told him at the time. Do you want to know what he said?”

“Yeah.”

Viggo looked at David, said, “Do you want to tell him or shall I?”

“You.” David was trying to breathe and to deal with his surprise at Viggo’s actions.

“What he said was you were too mesmerizing for him to remember it then.”

Sean grinned. 

“But,” Viggo continued, “I think he’s now saying he will use it in future if necessary. And you should keep his promise in mind. Is that right, David?”

“Yes.” 

“That’s fucking stupid,” Sean said. “I don’t mean using the safeword. But threatening me.”

“Promising,” David muttered.

“Semantics. If you don’t like how a game goes, you’ll walk. Dump us. Sounds like a threat to me.” Sean twisted under David, against Viggo’s grip. “Why don’t you let me up so we can talk about this?”

David started to lift himself off Sean’s legs but stopped as Viggo spoke. “No. I think you need to be here while we talk. Why do you see what he said as a threat? And how did a promise not to play games with you anymore if you do something he doesn’t like become ‘dumping us’? This is supposed to be about consent on both sides, and about trust, remember?”

“Yeah, but….”

Viggo interrupted him. “And I would hope about more than just games. So can David trust you not to do that to him again?”

“Sure. Though I’m still not clear on what it is I’m not supposed to do. But if he can explain it to me, yeah.” Sean scowled at Viggo. “And I want to know what you think you’re doing. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about …”

“No? Have you ever played the submissive role?”

“No, and neither have you,” Sean started, his voice dying away as he saw Viggo’s mocking smile. “Fuck,” Sean whispered. “You have, haven’t you?”

Viggo nodded. “And it’s what finally convinced me that what you said about playing games was true. Your response now is making me wonder how much you believe what you said.”

“I don’t believe it,’ Sean said.

David thought his voice was uncertain.

Viggo tilted his head. “David was there. He knows. After our night at the hotel. That night was the start but wasn’t what finally convinced me.”

Sean raised his head to look at David. “Bondage games?” he asked. “You dommed Viggo?”

David hesitated, uncertain of what to say, certain only that he didn’t have much time to decide. Viggo had said he didn’t want Sean to know about that night with Andy and David, but he was the one who had started talking. David looked at Viggo who nodded.

“Not exactly,” David said. “I was there, but Andy was running the game.”

“Andy again! Damn, I really overlooked something there.” After a pause when nobody said anything, Sean spoke again. “So, are you going to tell me about it or not?”

Viggo leaned closer, spoke softly “Wouldn’t you rather we show you?”

Sean opened his mouth, then checked himself. David felt him shift.

Viggo continued. “I’m not going to tell you about it, but I can say that you’ve been wasting David’s talents. You’ve never given him a chance to show what he can do.”

David felt himself turning red and could not meet Sean’s eyes.

“You mean besides the fact that he weighs a ton,” Sean said.

David leaned forward, running his hand up Sean’s thigh, pressing against him, feeling the bulge under his jeans. “It runs in the family,” David said sweetly, feeling Sean thrust up, pulling his hand away. 

Silence.

“Well, fuck, let me up, and I’ll think about it,” Sean said. 

Viggo nodded, released his arms. David rolled off his legs, and Sean sat up, stretching and rolling his shoulders.

Sean looked at them, “Did you two plan this?”

David shook his head as Viggo spoke. “Not at all. I merely took advantage of David’s…..” he paused.

“Threat?” Sean said, smiling at David.

“Promise,” David replied.

“Inspiration,” Viggo concluded. 

**Day Three Metamorphic **

“Any rock derived from other rocks by chemical, mineralogical and structural changes resulting from pressure, temperature or shearing stress.” http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/glossary/gloss2geol.html)

Viggo suggested packing a lunch and hiking up to his favorite trout stream for a late lunch that afternoon.

Sean said, “I thought fishing was lousy in the afternoon, you have to be out there at dawn or dusk, at feeding time.”

“It is and you do,” Viggo said. “But sometimes fishing isn’t just about catching fish. Do you have any other ideas for the afternoon?”

“Not particularly. All right, but only if can we skip the Zen lecture.”

Viggo packed ice, food and drinks in a portable cooler, handed it to Sean, and gave David a rolled picnic blanket, then picked up a metal box and led them out. 

David paused on the porch to look around. The house was painted grey with dark green trim. It sat on a small hill, with a long driveway running down to the gravel road. There were fenced-in fields, a barn, and several sheds, all in the same slightly weatherworn colors. David could see several horses under the trees. He recognized Brego.

The grass was fairly long, and lilac bushes created a hedge around the yard. Blue and gold swords of iris grew in beds around the house, massed thickly around the trees that grew in the front and along the south side. 

One tree in particular drew David. He stopped in the yard, placed a hand on it, looking up. It was huge, grey bark flecked with dark spots, smooth, but the leaves were what fascinated him. One side was green, the other a silvery white. When he looked up, he could see waves of color against the sky as the wind blew. “What kind of tree is this,” he asked.

Viggo turned back a moment. “Cottonwood,” he said. “It’s probably older than the house.” 

David followed Sean and Viggo down the driveway. When they reached the gravel road, David could not believe two cars could pass in such a limited space although Viggo assured him they could. “Some of my neighbors with trucks have problems, though,’ Viggo said as they walked down the road. 

“How far away are your neighbors?” he asked Viggo.

“Depends. Five-six miles by the road, but if you cut over the fields behind the house, it’s only a couple of miles. Their sons look after the place when I’m gone, usually just ride over.” 

Viggo opened a gate and they crossed the field, moving through long green grass, around scattered white boulders that Viggo said the glacial ice had left. At the foot of what Viggo said was a hill although David thought it looked more like a small mountain, they crossed a stream. Viggo pointed out bear tracks in the mud on the far side. They started climbing. 

From behind David, Sean spoke. “Not much of a path,” he said. “You do know the way, right?”

“It’s my land, so, yes, I do.” 

  
David thought Viggo sounded amused. Much like a Ranger escorting some hobbits into the Wild.

After a while, the ground leveled off, and they left the trees for a meadow. Viggo led them to the one tree in the middle of the open spot, stopped, and they unpacked lunch and ate, discussing their work since New Zealand.

Viggo and David teased Sean about working with Orli again, and Sean sighed and rolled his eyes. Sean gave Viggo a hard time about getting typecast as only working well with horses, and asked David what working with Hugh was like. David gave a light answer. He didn’t really want to talk to Sean about Hugh.

After he’d packed all the lunch remains back in the cooler, Viggo opened the box and assembled his fishing pole. “Anyone want to join me,” he asked politely. 

David shook his head, as did Sean.

“Well, then, relax. I wouldn’t wander too far if I were you. If you see a bear, she’s likely to still have her cubs, so be careful. And you don’t want to get lost.”

Viggo went off to fish.

David lay back on the blanket, enjoying the smell of crushed grass and the spicy scent of the tree. Looking up in the branches, he saw a small bird, light blue and cream colored, singing. 

“Probably warning us off his territory,” Sean said.

“Probably.”

Silence except for the wind. The bird gave up and flew off.

“David.”

David looked at Sean. He wasn’t smiling. After a moment, he asked, “May I?” 

Surprised that he’d asked, David nodded.

Sean reclined next to him, leaning on one arm, his hand on David’s chest. 

“Tell me what it is I’m not supposed to do again.” Sean’s voice was serious.

“What you did last time..” David started, but Sean interrupted.

“That covers a lot of ground. You seemed to enjoy it, except for the slap, and I thought we worked that out then. When did it go wrong? What was wrong?”

David drew a deep breath. “I did enjoy it, most of it. It was intense, but,” David searched for words. He knew Sean could talk rings around him, but for once he seemed to want to listen. “OK, yes, it started out exciting and sexy as hell. But somehow by the end….it was like it was too much about Viggo. And then I felt as if you just handed me over to him. I wasn’t in much shape to think about it then, but later…”

“I thought you both wanted it.”

“We did, but,” David thought. “Not the way you ended it. When I asked him about it, Viggo said he thought a lot of it had to do with the scene he’d run. The more I thought about it, the more that made sense. Like you were sending a message to Viggo. And that bothered me.” David paused, then “Am I wrong?” He almost hoped Sean would assure him that he was.

Sean was quiet, eyes looking past the horizon, hand still on David’s chest.

“I don’t know,’ he started. “I don’t think…..but maybe….”

“Just finish what you start,” David said, a little desperately. It had seemed clear to him before “I know you two got together before I came along which was after you finished filming and left. And if I’d known more then, I might have said no to Viggo.”

Sean laughed. “Fat chance.”

David remembered that day in the trailer, the look in Viggo’s eyes, what he’d said. “OK, you’re probably right. But sometimes being in the middle of you two can feel kind of dangerous.” 

Sean frowned down, but not really at, David. “I’m still not totally clear,” he said. “But I’ll try. Could you let me know right away if you think it’s happening? Not wait till after and then leave?”

David nodded, relieved.

“And if you don’t want the harness,” Sean said, “that’s fine. You don’t have to.”

David laughed and threw his arm around Sean’s neck. “Maybe we can talk about it,” he said. “Later?”

Sean kissed David slowly, carefully. David pulled him closer. He thought Sean was trying to understand something that David wasn’t even sure he understood himself. 

David opened his mouth, sucking Sean’s tongue in, warming. Sean’s hand moved down from David’s chest, David arched his back, wanting more touch, wanting Sean’s skin on his.

“Wait a minute.” Sean released David, reached over to pull the cooler closer. He flipped the top open, reached inside. David could not believe what Sean pulled out.

“Holy shit, Sean, in the cooler!”

Sean flourished the tube. “You know I always like to be prepared.”

“It’ll be frozen,” David protested.

Sean slid it in his pocket. “I’m sure it’ll warm up fast.”

He lay down beside David again, slid both hands up under his t-shirt, pushing it slowly up David’s body, calloused palms caressing him. 

“Put your arms up over your head?” Sean asked.

David raised his arms, and Sean carefully pushed the t-shirt over his head, up around his arms, leaving it there. Sean kissed David again, hands now sliding down. “Don’t move,” he said, then sat up to unzip David’s pants, tug them down around his ankles. 

Sean lay back down, half over David, leg over his legs, arms around him, behind him, clothes rubbing against his skin, holding his head, and kissed him, teasing his lips open with his tongue, nibbling, pressing in, a warm sweet pressure. The kiss went on, deepened, David straining against Sean, against the clothing around his arms and legs, starting to feel as if he’d come just from Sean kissing him, the longer it went on, the more likely it seemed. It had been so long. 

Finally, Sean paused, drew back, and gently rolled David over. “Promise me not to move,” he whispered.

“Uh-huh,” David managed. He heard a zipper, the rustle of clothes, then felt Sean next to him, bare legs, chest, belly, pressing closer. David felt Sean’s erection against his thigh, closed his eyes as he felt Sean’s hand stroke down his back. David made himself lie still as Sean trailed his hand down, brushing, trailing along his cleft. Finally, one finger pressed inside him, and David realized Sean had been right, as another, warm and slick, twisted in. David twitched, unable to hold still, and Sean moved over him, kneeling across David’s thighs, rubbing, twisting deeper.

Sean’s weight shifted forward, and David felt him position himself, gently stroking, then, as David moaned and tried to thrust back, pressing slowly in. Sean’s arm went around David’s chest, and he stretched out over David, starting to pump faster, harder. David buried his head between his arms, moaning. Pinned by Sean, hobbled by his own clothing, he could not move. He twisted, gasping, against Sean’s full weight.

“Is that what you meant?” Sean was lying next to him David opened his eyes and turned his head so he could look at him.

David was shaken by his response, still gasping for air, feeling his heart pounding, sweat cooling on his skin. “I think so,” he mumbled. 

Sean slid an arm over him, and David kicked off his shoes and jeans. His shirt had slid off at some earlier point, unnoticed. 

A few moments later, Sean asked, “David, do you think I should do what Viggo asked?”

David was surprised. “What—play the sub role?”

“Uh-huh.”

David turned to face him. “I don’t know…do you want to?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Well, that covers all possible options,” David tried to read Sean’s face, but could not tell what he was thinking or feeling. 

“The prospect of discovering more of your….talents,” Sean grinned as his hand slid down David’s back, pulled him closer, “is a tempting one.”

David didn’t say anything, and Sean was silent a moment. 

Then, “You don’t have to tell me about what actually happened,” Sean said. “But could you tell me how Viggo ended up agreeing to do it?”

David shook his head. “I’m still not sure, and I was there,” he said. “It was a while after that night in the hotel. Viggo and Andy talked about games, what Andy and I’d done. Then they came to talk to me. I think Andy challenged him. Somehow. But there might be more behind it. Viggo and Andy—I just don’t know.”

“A challenge…that would make sense,” Sean said slowly. 

Silence except for bird song, either the original singer or one of his rivals. David felt the breeze stroke his damp skin, closed his eyes.

Some time later, David heard Viggo’s voice, opened his eyes to see Viggo standing over them, holding the fishing pole and box.

“I gather you two have worked things out,” he said.

Sean released David, rolled over on his back, and stretched. He said, “You could say that. Did you catch any fish?”

“No,” Viggo said. “But that’s not always why I go fishing.”

“So did you plan this?” Sean asked, standing up and pulling on his clothes. 

Viggo smiled. “Not planned. Hoped maybe. Shall we go?”

David dressed and picked up the blanket and cooler filled with the remains of lunch. They hiked back down, crossed the stream and road, and returned to the house. 

On the way back, Sean spoke. “Vig, that offer you made this morning?”

Viggo paused, looked back. 

“My answer is yes.”

Summary: Sean has agreed to try a new position, but negotiation is still necessary.

**Day Three Metamorphic cont’d**

Several hours after dinner, they went upstairs to Viggo’s bedroom. Sean carrying his bag. He set it on the bed, opened it, started rummaging around in it. 

“Here, we are,” he said, pulling out some ropes. “I bought them for David since he doesn’t do cuffs, but…” He turned, tossed them to Viggo. Turned back to the bag, searched a bit more. “And here are a couple of handy devices. They clamp on so on you don’t have to drill holes in the bed. I remembered what you said about the hand carving.”

Sean knelt on the bed to attach the metal rings at the head and the foot, then returned to the bag. David was glad the carving was safe, but wondered what in the bag was clanking. 

“Wait a minute, where’s the camera?”

“Camera?” David asked with some trepidation.

“Yeah, I brought a video camera, remember last time, we talked and…”

“And we said no, Sean,” Viggo interrupted him.

“Well yeah, then you did, but I thought…Damn, I know I packed it. Someone nicked it. I’m going to get after that airline so fast....”

“Don’t bother,” Viggo said. “Nobody stole it. I confiscated it. Temporarily.”

Sean turned to look at Viggo, mouth open. 

David stepped back a few paces, just in case.

“You….what?”

“You can have it back when you leave.”

“But…”

“David, do you want to videotape any of this?” Viggo asked.

“No.” David spoke firmly. Pictures that Viggo kept were one thing. Videos were something else entirely.

“You’re outvoted, Sean,” Viggo said. “The camera is safe, and you can have it back when you leave. Unless you want to take some nice videos of horses and trees.”

  

  1. But I’m going to remember this.” He set the bag down in the corner.
  



Viggo, holding the ropes, looked at Sean, then at David.

“You still haven’t learned the knots?” David asked. 

Viggo shook his head.

“Sean?”

“I’ve only ever used cuffs,” Sean said, stripping off his clothes which he tossed on the rocking chair that was next to the large window. He sat down near the head of the bed and grinned at the two of them. “But if Viggo got rope, then I want rope.”

David sighed, walked over to Viggo and held out his hand. “Let me,” he said. He ran the ropes through his hands, enjoying the supple softness. They were a grey, almost silvery color, unusual. Most of the shops he’d been in carried only black or red. He looked at Sean. 

“Where’d you get these,” he asked. “Lothlorien?”

Sean bowed his head and gestured as if taking a bow. “I thought of you the moment I saw them,” he said. “Of course, I didn’t think I’d be breaking them in!” 

When David approached the bed, Sean reached out and pulled him close, a hand in the waistband of his jeans. 

David pulled back. “Lie down,” he said. 

“Make me?” Sean suggested, grinning at him. David stared back, unsure what to do. He really needed to teach Viggo the knots, he thought. 

“I’m not going to wrestle you again,” he said.

“David, David, David,” Sean said, shaking his head. “A dominant should not have to resort to physical force. Surely you know that.”

David thought about asking him what he’d been doing earlier but decided not to.

David looked at Viggo who shrugged. “I suspect if I come over there, it will become a wrestling match,” he said.

“You really ought to learn how to do this,” David said.

“Why, when he has you?” Sean said.

“Well, the first thing that comes to mind is that I don’t think I can tie myself up,” David said.

“Good point.”

David went around to the other side of the bed, knelt on it, and threaded a rope through the ring attached to the head of the bed. He then moved to the foot of the bed and threaded the other one through the second ring. Sean watched with interest but made no move to lie down. 

David stared at him. 

Sean stared back.

David got off the bed and thought a moment. 

He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor Unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. He walked slowly back around the bed, watching Sean watch him, and stood next to Sean. David was careful to stand nearer the foot than the head of the bed. He thought Sean relaxed slightly. 

David lifted his hands, ran his fingers lightly through Sean’s hair, down around the back of his head, began to massage his neck.

After a few moments, Sean’s eyes closed and his head tipped back, a small sigh of contentment escaping. David continued to rub a few moments then, still rubbing, stepped closer, lifting and bracing one knee on the bed beside Sean’s thigh, leaning down to kiss him.

David took his time, slowly brushing his lips back and forth across Sean’s until his lips parted. David slid his hands down to rub Sean’s shoulders, slowly ran his tongue across Sean’s lips, then deepened the kiss. He could feel Sean relaxing under his hands.

Sean’s hands went to David’s hips, trying to pull David closer, but he braced against the bed, pulling Sean’s shoulders forward in turn, sucking Sean’s tongue into his mouth. Sean hitched forward on the bed, trying to pull David against him, and David let himself fall forward, pushing off with his foot and knee, toppling Sean backwards onto the bed, thrusting his tongue back into Sean’s mouth.

Sean’s eyes opened, and David pulled back from the kiss. He was lying on top of Sean on the bed, hands on his shoulders. David smiled down at him, rolling his hips to rub against Sean who stiffened, thrust up. David ran his hands down Sean’s chest, then up and under his arms. “If you put your arms up,” he said, pausing to kiss Sean again. “I’ll be happy to tie your arms down.” He rolled his hips again. “Without getting off you.” 

Sean shook his head, then grinned, and put his arms up.

David cautiously pulled himself up along Sean’s body, legs on either side of him, and reached for the rope. Luckily, the rope was long enough that a good length trailed down from the high headboard. As David braced himself on one arm and reached for the rope with the other, Sean licked, then sucked his nipple. 

Pulling the two ends of the rope toward him, David rather awkwardly looped it around Sean’s wrists. It took him two tries to tie Sean’s wrists. Sean had progressed to gentle bites around his nipple by the time he’d finished. 

David wriggled back down, kissing Sean on the way. Then he spoke. “Do you know how to undo the knots?”

Sean glanced up, shrugged, shook his head. “I’ll just trust you to do it if I say ‘tequila.’” Sean said. 

David frowned at him. “No. You have to know. Look. You pull here.”

Sean nodded.

Trailing a row of kisses down his throat, chest, and belly, David slid back until he got his feet on the floor. Lifting himself briefly off Sean, he shifted enough to lap teasingly at Sean’s erection. Sean moaned, pushed up, but David pulled back, stood up, leaned over Sean, hands on either side of his body. 

“Let me move your legs over, and there’ll be more,” he promised.

Sean’s breath hissed out, but he pulled his legs up off the floor and let David move him to lie straight in the center of the large bed, his feet at the bottom. Before he moved to tie Sean’s ankles, David lay back down, arms angled over Sean’s belly and thighs, and gently licked, then sucked a few moments.

Then David stood. Viggo crossed to him, pulled him around for a kiss, but David managed to get a hand up, blocking him, regretfully. 

“You have to learn to tie the knots first,” he said.

David showed Viggo how to tie Sean’s ankles together with a knot that could be undone with one pull, then had him practice it a couple of times. When Viggo had finished, David showed Sean where to pull the knot lose.

Then Viggo turned David around, pushed him back against the footboard and kissed him, one arm around him, hand low on his back, the other at the base of his throat, holding him. David shuddered, his body relaxed, falling back, trapped between the wooden footboard and Viggo’s body, the kiss burning down his spine. 

“Hey,” Sean protested.

Viggo pulled back long enough to say, “No talking, Sean.”

He kissed David again. David arched against him.

Viggo pulled back, finished undoing David’s jeans, and pushed them down. David kicked them off, and reached for Viggo’s shirt, pulled it off. Then he unzipped Viggo’s jeans and pulled them down, going to his knees in front of him. David ran his hands back up Viggo’s legs, the backs of his thighs, and took him in his mouth. Viggo buried his hands in David’s hair.

Sean didn’t.....talk exactly. David wondered if a growl counted.

Viggo laughed softly, pushed David back, and said, “Help me turn Sean over.”

David nodded, followed him back around the bed. They turned Sean over. David ran a hand down Sean’s back. He wasn’t as tense as David remembered Viggo being, but he wasn’t exactly relaxed either. David looked at Viggo who nodded his head. “Get the oil,” he said.

David went to his bag, pulled out the lavender oil, and came back. Viggo was lying next to Sean, and David climbed on the bed on the other side, straddled Sean’s thighs. 

David poured a small puddle of oil in the small of Sean’s back, rubbed more on his hands. Rubbed his hands through the oil, and up Sean’s back. Started with his neck, rubbing gently in circles, then dropped down to his shoulders, kneading, applying more pressure. 

Sean half sighed, half moaned, and David could feel some of the tension leaving him. Hands moving in large circles over the shoulderblades, and down the ribs, then up the spine, circling down. Up and down, over and over.

Then, down Sean’s rear. He thrust up as David moved down, so he was a bit more daring than he had been with Viggo. A bit more pressure in circles, then trailing fingers down his cleft, running them down between Sean’s legs, and under to cup him gently, then back up to knead his thighs. Then calves, and, finally, a gentle foot rub. 

  
David moved back up the bed, to run his hands over Sean’s back, and down. He paused.

Sean said, “You fuckers have been holding out on me, and you’re going to pay for it.”

Viggo ran his hand over Sean’s head, pausing at the base of his neck, and said, “Did you bring any gags?” 

Sean didn’t answer.

David slipped off Sean on the opposite side from Viggo. Viggo leaned across Sean, wrapped one hand around David’s arm and pulled him over for a kiss. Pulling back slightly, he said, “You go first,” lips moving against David’s, and released him.

David knelt by Sean, frowning at Viggo. He wasn’t sure if Viggo had something in mind although he was sure Viggo wasn’t going to say anything specific. What he’d said earlier made David think he’d intended David to repeat what he’d done in New Zealand with Viggo. David didn’t want that. This was Sean, and everything was different. 

But if Viggo didn’t say anything, then he couldn’t complain if David did what he wanted.

Shrugging, he turned Sean over. His hands still slick from the oil, he ran them from Sean’s belly up his chest, slowly, rubbing around his nipples, then up his neck, to his face, tilting it. David’s thumbs were under Sean’s chin, his fingers, spread widely, cupped his head, buried in his hair. David could feel the slow pulse under the warm skin, was careful not to press hard. 

David lay on Sean, carefully fitting his body to Sean’s, chest, belly, groin, only angling his legs on either side of Sean’s. He could feel Sean tensing under him, pressing up, knew he was pulling against the ropes. 

The feeling excited David, Sean’s strength harnessed, restricted, his mobility hampered, and he held Sean’s head firmly as he kissed him, sliding his tongue between Sean’s lips, trying for as long a kiss as Sean’s had been, tightening his legs around Sean. Sean pushed his tongue into David’s mouth, tried to raise his head. David easily controlled him, prolonged the kiss, thrusting against Sean.

Then, releasing his mouth and head, David began kissing his way down Sean’s neck, swirling his tongue in the small indentation at the base which was already damp with sweat, then moving to Sean’s nipples, sucking one, rolling the other gently at first, then harder, between his finger and thumb. 

David pulled back, placed his hands on Sean’s chest. Sliding down his body, David trailed his tongue down Sean’s chest, feeling Sean’s struggle to control his breathing. Closing his teeth gently on the soft skin of Sean’s belly, David thrust his tongue into his belly button. Sean’s hips bucked up against David, and he grunted.

David leaned up and shifted to sit on Sean’s thighs, his arms across his belly. Leaned down to run the tip of his tongue down Sean’s erection, then up, flicking it over the tip, teasing. Sean tried to thrust up against David’s weight, and David could see the muscles in his arms swell as he pulled harder against the ropes. 

David waited a few moments until Sean made himself relax again. Then took him in his mouth as fully as he could, sucking hard, exulting as Sean pushed up again. Released him, leaned back as Sean jerked hard against the ropes, eyes glinting green between half-closed lids, teeth buried in his lower lip.

David smiled at him, sliding off, waiting again until Sean forced himself to relax, stop fighting the ropes. Then he slid his hands under Sean and turned him again. He placed his hands on his shoulders, slowly ran them down to his rear, positioning them to part his cheeks. 

Finally, breathless, jaw aching, breathing hard, he pulled back a moment, patting Sean when he moaned in protest. 

David reached over and grabbed the bottle of oil. He was clumsy opening it, was grateful when Viggo reached over, took it out of his hands, and opened it, even more when Viggo poured the oil on his hand and reached over to enfold David, rubbing the oil on him. David had to grab Viggo’s wrist to stop him when he started a wicked twisting movement, but leaned over to kiss him. 

Reaching down, he freed Sean’s ankles with one pull, then pushed his legs as far apart as he could, lying between them. Positioning himself, he thrust inside as deeply as he could, pumping in and out, hard and fast, bracing himself, arms at Sean’s sides, legs against his, pushing them wide. He could see Sean had twisted his hands around the rope, his knuckles white as he gripped, thrusting back. 

David’s skin slid against Sean’s as he moved, trying to pound into Sean’s warmth, shuddering as Sean clenched even tighter, feeling Sean move against him. Forcing himself deeper, David bit Sean’s shoulder, slid his arms under Sean to hold him, snapping his hips back and forth.

Sean cried out, convulsing under him. David almost jumped when Viggo’s hand came down on his neck, moved up his head, tugged until he released Sean, turned his head to meet Viggo’s kiss, then did jump when he felt the hot spatter against his side. That pushed David over, and he came, hard, collapsing against Sean, trembling with the aftershock.

David lay there until Sean pulled on the release string, and pushed himself up, rolling David off, shifting to lean over him.

David held his breath until Sean spoke. “You have potential,” he said, still having some trouble breathing regularly. “But we’ll have to talk about toys sometime.”

He ran a hand down his side, turned to face Viggo, held the hand out toward Viggo who was lying on his side. “A little too eager,” Sean said slowly, grinning. “Tsk, tsk.”

Viggo stretched. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, straight-faced. “If you’d been in my place, I’m sure you wouldn’t have lasted even that long.”

“Another challenge,” Sean said.

“A prediction.”

David closed his eyes and sighed, wondering how long it would be before they could get to sleep.

**Day Three Fossils**

Fossil -- Any evidence of past life, including remains, traces, imprints as well as life history artifacts. Examples of artifacts include fossilized bird's nests, bee hives, etc. http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/glossary/gloss2geol.html

After the midday meal which was David’s breakfast and Viggo and Sean’s lunch, Viggo began clearing away the dishes. Sean turned to David. 

“I gather that Boromir was never your thing. Although I notice you like to keep teasing me with Faramir.”

David shifted, feeling a bit guilty. It was true, and David wondered why he did it. Maybe it was the only leverage he thought he had.

Sean continued. “But I’m wondering, did Faramir ever fancy Aragorn?”

“Not really,” David said. “Just Frodo. Then Eowyn. I don’t think Faramir thought about Aragorn as anything but the King. Why?”

Sean turned to look at Viggo. “Did you ever wonder what Boromir wanted to do to Aragorn?”

Viggo looked amused. “On occasion.”

“He wanted to tie him up and fuck him.”

“Really?”

Sean sighed, rolled his eyes. “Why do you think I kept trying to talk to you about games?”

“Makes sense,” Viggo said. “Now, thinking back, I suspect Aragorn wanted to do the same to Boromir.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” David mumbled. “How the hell did you two ever get together without killing each other first?”

Looking as innocent as possible, which wasn’t very, Sean patted David’s arm. “We’re talking about our characters, not us,” he said. “Actors must learn to tell the difference, you know. Perhaps it becomes easier with experience.”

Viggo sat down with them and said, “So it was a complete coincidence that it happened right after we finished filming Boromir’s death scene.”

David became aware he was holding his breath. He met Viggo’s eyes, searching for what he’d seen once before, in the woods. If Viggo had told him that then, he wondered, would he have gone back to his place, would he have spent any time with both of them when Sean came back to New Zealand?

Viggo met his gaze, smiling, calm. David made himself breathe again, relaxed, assured himself that Viggo had dealt with that loss. Or, maybe, Aragorn had.

“Completely coincidental,” Sean declared. “I just decided that the time was right to make my move.”

“You made yourmove?” Viggo tilted his chair back.

David spoke before Sean could reply. “I’m not sure I get this whole Lords of Gondor thing you two have going,” David said. “And it’s been over three years. But are you saying you didn’t get it out of your system while filming?”

“Apparently not,” Viggo said. “Maybe we need to.”

Sean grinned, tilting his chair back. “Who gets to go first?” he asked. “I’d say me because I was tied up last night. And David can teach me the knots.”

Viggo smiled back. “Sean was tied up last night,” he pointed out. “We’re talking about Boromir and Aragorn. What was it you said about the difference between characters and actors?” 

David leaned forward, “Maybe I’ll just leave you to negotiate, then,” he said, planning to go outside and sit under the cottonwood tree for a while. He placed his hands on the table, preparing to shove his chair back. Before he could stand, Viggo grabbed his right wrist, Sean his left.

“OK,” David said, staring down at the hands clamped on his wrists. “This has now officially gone from a little strange to fucking weird. What am I supposed to be doing then?”

Sean and Viggo stared at each other. 

Sean shrugged, spoke first. “Audience?”

“Or maybe referee,” Viggo said. 

David leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. They released him. “Too bad there’s no way for you to tie each other up simultaneously,” he muttered.

They ignored him which, David thought, was probably lucky for him.

Then, realizing, he looked at Sean, aghast. “You brought the costumes,” he said.

“Sure.” Sean smirked. “All three.”

David shut his eyes, sank further down in his chair, and pressed his hands to his eyes. He was suddenly sure despite what he’d said earlier about no bartering or scenarios that he was going to end up in a Boromir/Faramir scene again. He wondered dismally how Sean would talk him into it this time.

“David?” Viggo said. “Are you all right?”

Dropping his hands, David opened his eyes and sat up straight. “Yeah,” he said. “Fine. OK, if I’m supposed to referee, then I suggest lots.” He didn’t think he could listen to a long conversation about which of their characters got to go first at this point.

“Like what?” Sean said.

David pulled the shallow ceramic bowl full of polished rocks of various colors in the middle of the table toward him. He picked up a green one and a black one. “Whoever ends up with the green one gets to go first,” he said. He put his hands behind his back, shuffled the rocks from hand to hand, then held out both hands, each one closed on a rock, in front of him. 

Viggo gestured for Sean to choose. Sean looked at David a moment, then tapped his right hand. David opened his hand, displaying the black rock, then handed the green one to Viggo, who tossed it up in the air and caught it.

“Aragorn goes first,” he said, dropping the rock back into the bowl. 

**Magma **

(Magma -- Molten rock generated within the Earth. http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/glossary/gloss2geol.html)

David found the ropes on the floor, half shoved under the bed, and threaded them through the metal rings, leaving them hanging, ready for use.

Sean unpacked the costumes, complaining about how his red silk had wrinkled. Viggo and Sean dressed as they tried to work out the scenario.

“It’d just be easiest to have Aragorn sneaking up on Boromir while he’s sleeping, and vice versa,” Sean pointed out.

“Not possible. Nobody could sneak up on a Ranger even when he’s asleep,” Viggo said firmly.

“Oh, come on,” Sean said. “It’s just a game. Besides, Arwen got the drop on him pretty good while he was off picking flowers. And awake.”

David winced. He knew Viggo had not been happy about elements of that scene, and Pete’d had to talk pretty fast to convince him to do it. Realizing the discussion would probably go on for a while, David sat down in the rocking chair, surprised to find how comfortable it was.

“Arwen is High Elven,” Viggo said. “Boromir isn’t. Think of something else. Something more plausible.”

“We’re talking about these two noble warriors tying each other up and screwing each other’s brains out, and you’re worried about plausibility?” 

Viggo nodded.

Sean shrugged, turned to David. “Does the referee have any suggestions?” he asked. 

David thought. There were two scenes in the film, although one was only on the extended DVD, that he thought provided the most plausible taking off point for this scenario. The scenes both had the passion and connection between the two that was so starkly shown in Boromir’s death scene, the one scene that David did not want to remind Viggo of no matter what. 

The first was in Lothlorien. The two men talk for the first time, as opposed to arguing over the Ring, while the rest of the Fellowship sleeps. Boromir accepts Aragon as a fellow Lord of Gondor and hopes to ride into the City with him one day. 

“What about the argument on the riverbank, after Boromir sees Gollum?” he said. “Assuming the rest of the Fellowship are asleep, that scene always looked to me as if there’s a lot more going on underneath than just the question of where to go next.”

Viggo nodded. “It could go either way, with each character’s line being the jumpoff point.”

“All right,” Sean said. “Any other important character issues you feel have to be worked out before you can commit to the scene?”

“Not at the moment, though you might just want to remember who is tying whom up.”

David settled back, rocking gently.

* * * * * * *

Boromir grabbed Aragorn, pulled him back.

“I would not take the Ring within a hundred leagues of your City.” Aragorn’s voice was low, dangerous.

Aragorn turned sharply, using Boromir’s arm as the fulcrum around which to spin him, then pivoted, winding one arm around Boromir’s neck. Boromir grabbed his arm with both hands, pulled down, and kicked. Aragorn shifted position, hooked a foot around Boromir’s ankle, and pulled. Boromir fell forward toward the bed, but twisted, nearly running into the headboard. Only what looked like a back-wrenching move by Aragorn prevented the collision.

David winced. He’d seen Viggo and Sean wrestling before, even been in the middle of it all, but this had an edge he didn’t recall seeing in the past.

  

  1. Bedsprings protested as Aragorn landed.
  



Pushing himself up off the bed, Boromir moved quickly to lean over Aragorn, hands on either side of his head. Smiling, Boromir leaned down to kiss Aragorn who lay still through the kiss, then grabbed a wrist in each hand and shoved sideways. Boromir fell forward on Aragorn who rolled, pushing Boromir onto his back, ending up sitting, pinning Boromir’s arms above his head, legs gripping his thighs.

Boromir tried to break the hold but could not get sufficient leverage. Aragorn was able to pull the rope close and tie his wrists together. Breathing heavily, Aragorn sat a moment, then rose cautiously. 

As soon as he could, Boromir tried to knee Aragorn, but he was ready and grabbed Boromir’s leg, shoved it down on the bed, held it down. A hand on Boromir’s other leg, Aragorn rolled off him and the bed, and pulled Boromir’s legs out straight. Holding onto Boromir’s legs despite his attempts to kick, Aragorn pushed him into the center of the bed, sat on his legs, and tied his ankles.

Aragorn moved off Boromir’s legs, slid to the edge of the bed and stood. Walking to the head of the bed, he picked up a tube off the nightstand, stood watching Boromir a moment.

Boromir tested the knots, pulling against them, finding little slack in the ropes.

Aragorn came back to the bed, reached out and flipped Boromir over, then pulled his leggings down quickly, pushing the red tunic up, holding him down with a hand in the middle of his back. Sat next to him, running a hand up and down his back. He unscrewed the tube, squeezed some lube onto his fingers and sat a moment, rubbing his thumb against his fingers. Leaning over, he slid one finger into Boromir, bracing his other arm against his lower back.

David shifted in the chair, remembering Viggo leaning over him, that infinitesimally slow motion, twisting in and out, making him hard. 

Boromir made no sound, no movement, beyond twisting his hands around the rope although David thought he could see muscles clenching under his skin which was starting to gleam with sweat. After some time, Aragorn slid a second finger in, twisting, turning.

David could hear the harsh breathing, see Boromir’s attempts to thrust up, the strain he was putting on the ropes. Aragorn barely moved, continuing his slow patient movement within.

Finally, his voice muffled, Boromir spoke, “Goddamnit! Do something!”

“What do you wish for, son of Gondor?”

  
”Just do it, asshole.”

“Tell me. Beg me. Call me your King.”

“Fuck me, goddamnit,” Boromir’s voice was strained. 

“’Fuck me, goddamnit, what?” His hand stilled.

A long pause, then Boromir gritted out, “My King.”

Aragorn laughed, swung himself over Boromir, pulling his own leggings down. Positioning himself, he thrust forward in one strong movement.

  
David shuddered, hardening even more, undid his jeans and slipped his hand inside rubbing himself.

Beyond the rhythm of the bedsprings in counterpoint to their breathing and the sound of flesh against flesh, no other sound could be heard. David strained up, arching against the solid wood of the chair, as he came.

Finally, Aragorn’s body clenched, and he collapsed on Boromir, his hand tangled in the blond hair. 

David closed his eyes, panting. 

Silence.

* * * * * * *

Finally, Sean spoke. “How long did you last, David?”

“Fuck you, Sean,” David said.

Viggo laughed, rolled off Sean and freed his arms, then his legs.

Sean kicked free of his leggings, then rolled onto his side.

“Just what do I have to do to convince you two to accessorize? You show a lamentable lack of imagination.”

“Fuck you too, Sean,” Viggo said and got up to change.

* * * * * * *

Later that afternoon, Viggo went to the barn to feed the horses. Sean went to check his email, and David went out to the porch. Sitting on the steps, David tried to estimate how tall the cottonwood tree was. Hard to do, but it towered over the house.

David gave in to the impulse to climb the tree. He walked over, grabbed the large branch that was lowest one, leaving the main trunk about five feet from the ground, jumped, and pulled himself up and over. Bracing one bare foot against the smooth trunk, he easily pushed himself onto the branch and sat.

The screen door banged, and Sean walked to the edge of the porch. “Want a beer?” he asked.

“Sure.” 

Sean went in, then came out holding two bottles. He handed one up to David, leaned against the trunk. 

David was waiting. He was sure he knew what was on Sean’s mind.

“David,” Sean began. “I was wondering if…”

David interrupted him. “Yes, but with conditions.”

Sean looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“You brought the costumes, so I think I know what you’re going to ask.”

Sean grinned, threw up his hand. “Touché. I must be losing my touch. Or at least the element of surprise.”

“And I’m saying yes, conditionally.”

“Which are?”

David swung his legs down and sat sideways on the branch facing Sean. “First, this is the last time, OK?”

Sean thought a moment, shrugged, and nodded. “If you insist. All right. Maybe next time, I can work up something nice with vampires in it.”

David shuddered but resolved to deal with that later. “Second, it has to be a different scenario. Something, well, less morbid. No premonition of death. Can’t they be partying? Horny? Drinking?”

“Tequila,” Sean offered, grinning.

“Whatever it takes,” David said. “And why not set it before the dream, before all the tragic stuff starts, so it’s not so depressing.”

“You want to create the scenario?” Sean asked.

“In Ithilien,” David said, suddenly inspired. “Boromir’s been commanding there, and has just gotten his promotion to, what was it, Commander?”

“High Warden and Captain-General,” Sean muttered.

“Whatever. Denethor’s sent Faramir to bring him news of the promotion, and to take over command in Ithilien.”

“A celebration,” Sean says. “Has possibilities. All right. Any other conditions?”

David grinned down at him. “Faramir could be on top,” he said.

Sean set his bottle down on the ground, turned to face David, curling his hands around David’s ankles. Locking his eyes on David’s, he yanked sharply down, pulling David easily off the branch. He’d telegraphed the move well enough that David was able to land easily, flexing his knees.

He didn’t even spill his beer.

Grabbing his shoulders, Sean turned, shoving David against the tree, pressing against him, and kissing him, slowly, deeply. David relaxed, held between Sean’s body and the huge trunk behind him.

“Don’t push your luck,” Sean said. “I said you had potential, but that’s all.”

David shrugged. “Wasn’t really a condition,” he said. “But now that I think about it…”

“What?” Sean asked, releasing him, stepping back and picking up the bottle.

“If it’s in Ithilien, why not do it out here?”

Sean shook his head. “I think that role had a bad influence on you. All right. But not in the bloody tree. There are some things even I won’t do.”

David laughed and agreed.

* * * * * * *

David was sitting at the kitchen table with Viggo, Sean waiting outside on the porch. Both had dressed in their costumes again after dinner, but David had decided to take Sean’s suggestion about the tequila. Viggo was writing in his notebook. Outside the large window, the last light of sunset lingered in the clear sky.

David tossed back the second shot of tequila, coughed as it burned a fiery path down. He hadn’t drunk tequila since that night with Andy in New Zealand and was surprised Viggo even had any. 

He began to feel the golden buzz rising. Remembering that night after the fight with Elijah, going down the alley with Andy. What had happened when he’d met Viggo. Other nights when he was younger. 

The reason he didn’t drink tequila often anymore was the way he felt it released something in him, but he thought he could use that something tonight. He remembered creating Doug in Cosi, his euphoria at setting fires, the sense of a sexual predator who would use anyone or anything to get what he wanted.

David was sure Faramir had a similar wild side, well repressed though it was, and wondered if there was any equivalent to tequila in Tolkien’s Gondor. In the book, Faramir said he would pass by the Ring even if it was lying in the road, but he didn’t walk away from all power. He was the second son, but he was a military leader. He accepted that role, he accepted the role of Steward after his brother’s death. He had to have a side that enjoyed exercising power. The film version of Faramir was angrier, more potentially violent, than the character Tolkien describes in the book.

And perhaps that side was closer to the surface in his younger days, more uncontrolled. Yes, he was bringing the news of his brother’s promotion to Boromir, but that promotion gave Faramir more power. He was now Captain of Gondor in Ithilien.

“David?”

Startled, David looked up from the empty glass between his hands. 

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many drinks have you had?”

Confused, David thought back. “Two.”

“I counted three.” Viggo closed the notebook

“Are you sure?” David frowned.

“Yes. How many did you have that night I found you lost in Wellington?”

“That was years ago, nobody could remember that,” David protested.

“Could you have told me then?”

“Probably…,” looking into Viggo’s eyes, he shrugged, finished, “not. OK. I never said I was anything but stupid that night. I don’t usually..”

“I know. So this is different?”

“Sure.”

David reached for the bottle, but Viggo was quicker, pulled it away, stood and walked to the sink. He poured the remaining liquor out, rinsed the bottle, and put it under the sink in the glass recycling bin. David watched him, wondering.

Viggo returned to the table, sat, pushing the notebook aside. “How is it different? Are you drinking just so you can do Faramir for Sean?”

David felt himself turning red. Put like that, it sounded bad. And it wasn’t, totally. “Not exactly.”

“Why then?”

David crossed his arms on the table, looked at Viggo. “Why are you asking?”

“David, that night in Wellington. If I’d accepted your invitation, would you’ve been able to say no to anything?”

Shifting, David felt an uneasy mix of arousal and apprehension. That night had started with Andy, and the same question had occasionally crossed his mind. “But you wouldn’t have,” he started, then stopped. “Never mind,” he said. “You’re right.” Yet remembering what had happened at lunch a week or so later, he couldn’t help saying, “But you didn’t seem to mind the idea of using tequila that much back then.”

David was surprised to see Viggo color faintly, look away, before looking back. He sighed. “And you’re right about that. I owe you an apology. That was…” he stopped. “That was wrong.”

David had always half suspected that had been Andy’s idea, but he wasn’t going to ask. Things had worked out. With Viggo and Andy. David shrugged. “That’s okay, it’s not like you held me down and poured it down my throat. You two took no for an answer. But what’s bothering you about tonight?”

“You. Tequila. Sean.”

“Sean’d stop at the safeword, you know that.” 

“But will you use it after three drinks?”

“Ah.” Yes, David thought, that was the question. “Are you really sure I had three? Weren’t you writing?”

“Just making a few notes. And yes, I’m sure. I sat here for fifteen minutes by the clock watching you, and I don’t think you even realized I was watching or that you poured the last one. What were you thinking?”

David pushed his chair back. “Three is OK. I know I had more that night.”

“Why?”

“Why did I have more that night?” David wasn’t sure why Viggo wanted to keep talking about that night.

“No, why are you drinking for this scenario? You don’t for any of the others.”

David gave up on leaving without trying to answer Viggo. He leaned on the table a moment, trying to think of a way to explain. It was hard, the buzzing sense of floating did not encourage thought. “It’s the fact that the characters are brothers that bothers me,” he started. “And, the other thing that bothers me is that I think Boromir’s sexy as hell, and..”

Viggo tilted his chair back, smiling. “You, David, or you, Faramir, or both?” he asked.

“Just me. Not Faramir, no matter what Sean says. But I don’t exactly want him to know that.”

“I understand. I’ve heard his theory.” 

David continued. “So, if the characters weren’t brothers, I wouldn’t have any problems with the scene. And Boromir’s, well, like I said.”

“So’s Faramir.” Viggo’s voice was low.

David looked up, startled, swallowed hard. “Is that Aragorn talking?” he asked after a moment.

“No.”

“Oh.” David really wished he hadn’t had that third shot. “But you’ve never asked for that.”

“No.” Viggo let the chair drop back, stretched. “No, I haven’t. I think that sometimes things are better left as fantasies. And I think this is one of those things. So, you’re using the tequila to, what, help you…”

David shook his head, hoping to clear it. “I guess kind of create a version of Faramir who doesn’t find sex with his sexy older brother to be a problem, if that makes sense.”

“Still, I don’t think you...” Viggo started.

“It’s the last time, you know,” David interrupted him. “That was the only way I’d agree.”

“No, I didn’t, but I’m glad to hear it. And I’ll remember it.”

“What?”

“Just in case Sean doesn’t.”

“He won’t go back on his word.”

Viggo smiled, pulling the noteback in front of him and opening it. “No, he won’t. But there are a lot of ways around things, and Sean can be awfully persuasive.”

David shrugged, stood up. “Well, I meant it when I said it was the last time. But if Sean tries to argue me out of it, feel free to agree with me again!”

Viggo laughed as David left the kitchen.

Pausing in the dark hallway, just inside the open door, David stood still a few moments, breathing deeply, his eyes shut. 

* * * * * * *

Then, releasing the wild child, the feral creature, that lived within, Faramir walked out into the night under the stars of Ithilien.

Faramir paused on the steps, searching the shades of night. He saw Boromir standing under the tree, back to him. Stepping as softly as he could, he walked forward. Approaching Boromir from the side, noting how the way he stood showed he was deep in thought, Faramir tackled Boromir from behind, knocking him down.

Boromir twisted under him, flipped him over, and pinned him, arms above his head.

“What’s this?” 

“A reminder to the new High Warden to watch behind him,” Faramir said. “He’ll be facing more dangerous enemies in the City than ever walked the glades of Ithilien.” Faramir tested his brother’s grip, did not think he could break lose...yet. Relaxed under him.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Someone who would attack without warning?”

“Many.”

“But if they’re as easily overcome, then what danger could they be?”

Faramir shrugged. “Perhaps the attack from behind will be the distraction,” he said. “To keep your eye from the direction the arrow will come.”

Boromir laughed. “How much have you had to drink?” he said.

“Weren’t you counting?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Not for such a momentous celebration,” Faramir said, suddenly breaking Boromir’s hold on his wrists, trying to shove him off and roll out from under him in one movement.

Boromir easily maintained his balance, regained hold of Faramir’s wrists, pulled his arms down closer to his sides.

“Momentous?” Boromir asked.

“High Warden and Captain-General? No son of our House has held both those titles in centuries. And the best part is you’ll never have to try to use a bow again from a position of such....high prominence.”

“You won a single archery contest, little brother. Still bragging?”

“I beat you,” Faramir smiled though he doubted Boromir could see him in the darkness under the huge tree.

“Once.” 

“Once is more than anyone else has.” Faramir bucked up, trying again to dislodge his brother’s weight, flinched as he felt the hardness of Boromir’s erection against his own.

A pause, then, “What’s this?” Boromir shifted his weight, grinding against Faramir, who gasped, spread his legs, thrust back.

In answer, Boromir released one hand, wound his fingers in Faramir’s hair, pulled his head back, and ran his tongue up his throat, then kissed him, hard. Faramir tasted blood, bit his brother’s lip, wound his free arm around Boromir.

Boromir released Faramir’s other arm, shoved his hand down his leggings, and grasped his member, rubbing hard. Faramir closed his eyes, arched his back, digging his fingers into his brother’s neck, concentrating on the feel of the hard calloused palm against him, the mouth forcing his open, the hard body pinning him.

Faramir cried into Boromir’s mouth as he came, convulsing.

Eyes still shut, Faramir lay limply under the warm weight until Boromir shifted off him, turning him over, raising his head. Faramir felt the blunt warmth pressed against his lips, opened his mouth, sucking, licking. Bracing himself, he shifted forward between Boromir’s spread legs, pressing forward. He felt Boromir’s hands on his head, sucked harder, tilted his head as Boromir thrust deeply, timed his breathing until Boromir cried out, clenching his hands, coming.

* * * * * * *

Sean leaned over and kissed David who opened his eyes.

“That was bloody incredible,” Sean said. “But I suppose you’re going to hold me to your condition.”

David stretched, rolled over, rubbing the side of his neck to ease the cramp on the side. “Not only that,” he said, “But if you ever even mention Telemachus, I’m out of here.”

Sean laughed and patted him on the head. “For next year, think vampires,” he said. “Come on, let’s see what Viggo’s up to.”

**Lava** Day Four

Historical accuracy carefully maintained (Sean made me say that).

DAY FOUR

lava -- Any molten material that is extrusive or volcanic, or the rock that forms from a molten extrusive. http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/glossary/gloss2geol.html)

Already in costume, Sean placed a few items on the nightstand. 

Viggo was pulling on his shirt, but paused. “How historically accurate are those?” he asked.

“Says the man who unscrewed a plastic cap from a little aluminum tube yesterday,” said Sean.

“I could have skipped it if you preferred.”

“Yeah, or used butter. In any case, to answer your question, completely. No batteries, no electricity, metal rings, marble dildo. Sex toys have been around for millennia. And given Numenorean technology, let alone Dwarven and Elven ingenuity, there’s no reason not to assume they didn’t exist in Tolkien’s cultures. Think of all the ways you could use a palantir.”

“And Boromir packed a handy assortment for his trip to Imladris and didn’t lose them outside Moria?” 

Sean turned and grinned. “Boromir believed in always being prepared. David, are you ready to show me how to tie these famous knots?”

David rose from the rocking chair, went to Sean’s bag, and found the ropes. He returned to the bed, threaded them through the rings, and sat back on his heels. When he’d taught Viggo, Sean was already half tied up. 

“Viggo?”

Viggo came over, lay in the center of the bed, and let David pull his arms over his head. Sean leaned over to watch David. David tied Viggo’s wrists together, slowly, pulled the release, and then demonstrated the knot once more.

Sean nodded. “I think I see. Let me try on his ankles.” He moved to the foot of the bed. David got off the bed and followed him. Sean repeated his actions, tying the knot once, slowly, releasing Viggo, then tying the knot again. “Easy enough. Although I’m sure cuffs are also historically accurate!”

He leaned over the footboard and smiled at Viggo. “I think we can start now.”

Viggo raised one eyebrow. “I thought this was for teaching purposes only.”

“This was strategy. Far superior to brute force. You don’t agree, you can always pull the release. Otherwise, as I seem to recall hearing recently, no talking.”

Viggo shrugged, did not move.

Sean reached out, grabbed David by the arm and pulled him close. Holding both his wrists behind his back, Sean kissed him, pinning him against the footboard. David twisted against him, hardening.

Sean pulled back a bit, spoke softly. “You’re going back in that chair, but what if I tied your hands down, what if you could only watch. Do you think you’d come anyway?”

David shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Shall I do it?”

David looked into Sean’s eyes, his breath catching. “Yeah.”

Sean walked him over to the chair, let him sit while he pulled more ropes out of his bag. David placed his arms on the polished wood, let Sean loop one end of a rope around his right wrist, tying it to the arm of the chair, then use the other end to tie his left wrist. 

Sean ran his hands up David’s arms, over his shoulders, down his chest and belly to his thighs, rubbing. “Your feet?”

“OK.”

Sean knelt, pushed his legs apart, and tied his ankles to the chair with the other rope. Ran his hands up his legs and thighs, pressing between them, rubbing. David thrust up against his hand.

“To zip or not to zip,” Sean said. “I think...not.”

He stood, turned back to the bed. 

David tried to relax.

* * * * * * *

Boromir placed his hand on Aragorn’s throat, locked eyes with him.

“All your life you have hidden in the shadows, scared of who and what you are. Come out of the shadows if you dare.” 

David twisted in the chair as Boromir sat back, picked up several of the rings from the nightstand and slid them onto Aragorn’s erect member. Sat a moment, rubbing, then bent over, licking slowly, tantalizingly. Pulled back, smiled to see Aragorn thrust up, pulling against the ropes.

  

  1. Aragorn grunted, jerked against the ropes.
  



Boromir stroked his back several times, stood and rolled Aragorn onto his back. 

David could see the rapid rise and fall of Aragorn’s chest. Boromir braced his arms on his belly and thighs, lay down on the bed at an angle, and began licking, then sucking.

David could see his jaw working as he slowly manipulated the top ring off Aragorn, realized how carefully he’d judged their positions for just that reason, and shut his eyes, biting his lip. But a series of sounds, half breathing, half groans, from the bed made David harden, pull against the ropes until his wrists tingled. His jeans were tight and harsh against him as he moved.

A pause, a creak of the bedsprings, and David jumped as a warm hand circled his throat. “Eyes open, David,” Sean murmured.

  

  1. “Keep them open.”
  



Turned back to the bed. Flipped Aragorn onto his belly, lay across his thighs, working the dildo in and out. 

The tunic was smooth against David’s face, carried Sean’s scent.

Eventually, Boromir pulled the dildo out, tossed it aside, rolled down and released Aragorn’s legs. Turning him onto his back, Boromir pushed his legs up and apart, leaned over, slid his hands under Aragorn’s hips to tilt them up, thrust inside. 

David could see Aragorn’s hands twist into the rope, pulling, his head tilt back, as Boromir thrust in, pulled nearly out, thrust again, over and over, one hand twisting around Aragorn’s member, timing the motions to his thrusts. Sweat ran down David’s face, his chest, as he twisted fruitlessly, aching, unable to come.

Dimly, he heard the sounds, saw Boromir lean down for a final kiss as Aragorn convulsed under him. 

Silence except for harsh breathing. 

* * * * * * *

Sean rolled off the bed, walked across the room, knelt in front of David, flattened a hand against him. David moaned, trying to thrust up, his wrists and ankles numb. Sean grinned at him, carefully unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushed them open. He ran his fingers gently over David’s erection. 

“Please, Sean,” David begged, aching for release.

Sean knelt down, took David in his mouth, sucking hard, running his hand between David’s thighs to squeeze. David arched up, coming, shuddering as Sean’s warm mouth and tongue continued working him. 

Collapsing back in his chair, David closed his eyes, limp. Sean untied his ankles, then his wrists. David stretched, rubbing his wrists. Sean patted his head. 

“Well, now we know, don’t we?” he said.

“Yeah, well, next time you can be in the chair.” David opened his eyes.

Sean laughed, went back to the bed to release Viggo’s arms.

* * * * * * *

David walked into the barn, savoring the smells of clean horses, wood, feed. Viggo was grooming Brego, looked up as David approached the stall door.

“You’re wearing boots, right?”

“Just like you said.”

“Good. Nobody needs to end up with a broken foot.”

  

  1. David scratched him under his chin, and Brego sighed.
  



“Sean’s on the internet,” David said. “I think he started out answering email, but he’s now surfing fan sites.”

Viggo laughed. “You ever check out any of the sites?”

“No.”

“Me either. But Sean enjoys it.”

David fell silent, watching. Viggo was not wearing a shirt, and as he groomed the contented horse in sweeping motions, his skin gleamed. 

“One of my friends who’s on the internet a lot says there was a lot of bitching about Faramir though apparently it let up somewhat after Pete released the extended DVD.”

“I think there was some of that about all the characters. Liv said quite a few people complained about Arwen using a sword and her conflict with Elrond, let alone her even being in the middle film.”

Brego stepped closer to the door and nudged David who scratched around his ears. “Hey, Brego, at least nobody complained about you, right?”

“He wants a carrot—I keep some in the bag in the feed room if you want to spoil him,” Viggo said.

“Sounds like a good idea.” David walked down to the far end, past the stalls, into the feed room, which held barrels full of green and brown pellets, supplementing the animal’s grass and hay diet. He found the bag and pulled out a handful of carrots. He distributed the first to Brego, then walked down the rest of the stalls, giving one to each horse.

David went back to stand in the doorway, looking out over the fields, watching the sun sink behind mountains.

“This place is so beautiful,” he said. “Watching their television shows and movies, you’d think the whole country is a big city. New York, LA, mostly. They never show places like this.”

He heard the stall door close behind him, footsteps. 

“In fact, I’d say the only thing lacking to make it the perfect vacation spot is a hammock.”

David was turning just as Viggo tackled him, so fell sideways into the big pile of straw near the door. The straw was softer than the floor had been, but David wondered what his chances of finishing this week without a cracked rib were. He twisted under Viggo, trying to get his face out of the prickly straw. Then he sneezed. 

“I think Sean’s been a bad influence on you,” Viggo said, his hands under David’s shirt, pushing it up.

“I could say the same,” David protested. “Just kidding.” He arched up as his bare skin hit straw which itched. “But I’m not kidding about how uncomfortable this is. What’s it for?”

“Bedding for the horses.”

“I wouldn’t sleep on it.”

“They’re not complaining….and I’m not planning to sleep.” 

“Well, I’m not going to bottom on this.” David kept squirming.

Viggo pinned him easily, holding his arms behind his back, rolling him over. “You know, David, a lot of horse tack consists of leather straps. Although I don’t have any harnesses since I ride rather than carriage-race.”

David tugged, trying to free his hands, trying to suppress a grin. “I also know the tack room is at the other end of the barn. I don’t see any nice straps handy. Lack of preparation?”

“Perhaps.” Viggo shifted his wrists to one hand, reached into his pocket with the other and pulled out a tube which he showed David. “Perhaps not.” He slipped it back in his pocket, then placed his hand at the base of David’s throat where he applied light pressure. “I could walk you down to the other end to get the straps. And at that point, I might not feel like walking you back to this nice soft pile of straw...”

David snorted, sneezed again.

“There are also blankets in the tack room. Or, you could not move while I go get the straps and a blanket. What do you want to do?”

David looked at Viggo, feeling excitement twist inside, feeling himself harden. “What do you think?” he asked.

Viggo’s hand tightened, and David gasped for air as Viggo kissed him, hard and deep and slow. 

“I think you’ll wait here and not move,” Viggo said softly, then rolled off David who lay still.

Viggo stood and went to the tack room. David sat up, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off, thinking. As Viggo disappeared into the tack room, David moved several feet to his left which, he planned to point out if necessary, put him much closer and at a better angle to the closest post. 

When Viggo returned, he acknowledged David’s movement with a look, but said nothing. He knelt to spread the olive-green blanket, tossed several leather straps down on it. David moved onto the blanket, sat cross-legged, watching as Viggo picked up one long leather strap and looped it around the post, running one end through the ring at the other, tugging it tight. 

“Lie down,” he said. 

  

  1. The leather was not very flexible, but held as David pushed against it.
  



“What is that?” asked David.

“A rein.” 

David looked at the other strap, shorter and with a buckle rather than a ring, which was still on the blanket.

“That?”

“A chin strap.”

David shifted away, uneasy. “I don’t do gags,” he said. He thought it was too short, but just in case.

Viggo smiled at him. “Neither do I though Sean may make me rethink that,” he said. “But this is the chin strap of a bridle for a horse. It’s too short for to use for a gag.”

“So what....,” David began, but Viggo leaned down to kiss him, then pulled back, placing a hand over his mouth. “No talking,” he said. 

Viggo pulled off David’s boots and tossed them aside. Kneeling, he grasped a foot in each hand, thumb tracing circles on each of David’s soles, the touch seeming to shoot straight up his legs. David arched, tried to pull away but could not get leverage to break Viggo’s grip.

Viggo released him, moved forward to undo David’s jeans and try to tug them down. David shifted, tensing and pushing his hips down, making it difficult. Viggo paused, looked at him. Swung his leg over David’s thighs, pushed the jeans open more in front, reached in to free David’s erection, running his thumb gently up and down. David arched up, tensing, and was surprised when Viggo didn’t move to pull his jeans down. 

Instead, Viggo leaned over and picked up the chin strap, set it on his thigh, worked the end through the buckle one-handed, and leaned forward to slip the loop over David’s erection. David held his breath as Viggo pushed the loop down, tugging to tighten it, then gently pulled up on the strap. David hardened even more, obedient to the pull, arching up further to let Viggo pull his jeans down past his hips.

Then he rolled David over. David’s nose itched, pressed against the scratchy blanket, and he turned his face enough to breathe easily. He would definitely send Viggo a hammock when Return opened. He heard the clunk of boots being tossed onto a wood floor, a zipper, the rustle of clothes. 

Warm hands circled his ankles, pushing them apart, then ran up his legs, slowly. To his thighs. David shut his eyes, tensed. The hands ran up over his rear, thumbs in his cleft, fingers spread wide, rubbing, pushing him apart. 

One finger slipped in, twisting slowly, small movements. David tried to relax, slow his breathing, pulling against the rein. He recognized this. Twisting against the blanket, he tried to thrust back. Viggo’s free hand slipped under him, searching for then grasping the strap, tugging. David cried out, tried to freeze, could not. 

“Slow down,” Viggo murmured. He released the tension, David relaxed marginally, felt Viggo’s hand move down, felt the strap under him. Viggo pulled his hand out from under David, slid it over and down his thigh, tugging then releasing the strap from behind. The loop tightened, then released, and David shuddered as Viggo slid another finger inside, began pushing in and out.

“Please,” he gasped, tense and aching from the time he’d spent tied to the chair earlier. 

Viggo’s hand stopped, his other rubbed David’s back.

“Please what?”

“Do it now. Not slow.”

A breath of laughter, then “All right.”

Viggo shifted, pulling out, moving over David. Positioning himself, he thrust slowly in, sliding an arm around David’s chest, thrusting harder and faster. David spread his legs wider, thrust up against Viggo’s weight, pulling against the rein, panting. He wanted more. Pushing up as hard as he could, he forced Viggo to exert more strength to hold him, thrusting harder. Eventually, the friction of the heavy blanket, the pressure of the leather strap, Viggo’s power, pushed him over, and he came, followed soon by Viggo.

David lay under Viggo, warm and relaxed.

Viggo stirred, pulled his arm out from under David and ran his hand through his damp hair. “You should be glad I believe in using a loose rein, no spurs or whip.”

David suppressed a final sneeze, braced himself, and rolled over, tumbling Viggo off. “I think you’re riding the metaphor a bit too much,” he said, and released his arms.

**Epicenter**

Must acknowledge ongoing inspiration of savageseraph and caras_galadhon, but this section (and the next) must be especially dedicated, with thanks, to aprilkat. I do not think it would have ever been written, or that this sequence would have taken the shape it did, were it not for the conversations and insights she has shared. But she only deserves credit for the good—I take any blame for the what doesn’t work!

“Point on the Earth's surface directly above the focus of an earthquake. http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/glossary/gloss2geol.html)”

Viggo had talked both Sean and David into a short trail ride earlier that day, and David had been surprised by how much he enjoyed it. They had ridden over the back fields, down a hill, and then, after maneuvering through a gate, had ridden through meadows and trees. The only sounds except their conversations and the horses had been birds and the wind. Now, after coming back a different way, David and Sean both having to admit they never could have found their way back, and grooming the horses, they were having a beer on the porch.

They were all sitting in the oddly angled chairs that Viggo said were called Adirondack chairs after some eastern mountains. David thought they looked uncomfortable, but had found when he sat that looks were deceiving.

“I’ve just realized,” Sean said, “we’ve been here four days, and so far David is the only one who hasn’t been tied up.”

David stretched, arms above his head, carefully not looking at Viggo. “What do you call that routine in the rocking chair?” he asked.

“All right, except for that, but you know what I mean. Considering I bought the ropes just for you, I’m starting to feel a little hurt.”

“It’s not my fault you two discovered your characters wanted to tie each other up,” David said. “Address your complaint to the Lords of Gondor.”

“There’s one Lord of Gondor who hasn’t been tied up yet,” Sean pointed out. David sat up straighter. “Oh, no, no way,” he said. “You agreed that was the last time we’d do Boromir/Faramir.”

“Certainly. However, we never talked about Aragorn/Boromir /Faramir, did we?”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” David said, relaxing. “I can see it now. Boromir shows up with the harness, Aragorn wants to use, what, that sling, and they have to argue for an hour, and then it takes another argument to see who gets to go first, and, oh, yeah, what to do with the rings, and…”

Sean leaned forward, green eyes gleaming. “You’ve got to admit it has possibilities, right, Viggo?”

David realized Sean wasn’t kidding. And if David wasn’t careful….he had a sudden image of the death scene from the film, the two men in the woods, and remembered Viggo….David stood and left the porch. Halfway to the tree, he stopped himself. Back to them, he said, “No.” 

Behind him, he heard Viggo’s voice. “David?”

David turned, backed up another step or two. Looked at Viggo, then Sean. Viggo was frowning, but Sean just looked confused. 

David swallowed, looked at Sean. “Sean, no. Not Aragorn and Boromir. That….feels dangerous.”

Sean blinked, his expression changing, and sat back slowly in his chair. Eyes steady on David, he did not speak for a moment, then, “All right, David. Forget it. It was just a thought.”

David could hardly believe his ears. He’d never seen Sean back down like that, and he felt a rush of gratitude. Slowly, he returned to the porch and sat down.

Viggo stood and offered to get more beer. While he was gone, Sean and David didn’t speak, but David thought it was a comfortable silence. After Viggo had returned, the conversation became general for a while. 

Finally, David spoke. “You know what I’d like,” he started, remembering their first night.

“Yes, I remember,” Sean said, leaning forward, folded arms on knees. “But since I’ve nobly given up on Boromir and Aragorn tying up Faramir…I don’t know. I think I need a little reward. I think I’d like to see you beg for it.”

David raised his eyebrows, thought a few moments. He still couldn’t believe Sean had stopped trying to push his scene so easily. He did deserve a reward. 

David remembered a cat he’d lived with years ago, a big tabby, an accomplished beggar, adept at fooling guests into providing extra food. He would appear in the kitchen and wind around their legs, pushing harder and harder, until they were convinced he was starving and would open a tin of cat food. David concentrated on the memory, closed his eyes and tried to move into that space, that physicality. 

He rose to his feet pulling off his t-shirt in the same movement. Let the shirt drop to the floor without looking. He locked eyes with Sean and slowly unzipped his jeans, running his hands slowly around the waistband, pushing them down. Not looking down or pausing, he stepped out of the jeans and walked toward Sean who was sitting up straight in his chair. 

David knelt at Sean’s feet, placed his hands on Sean’s knees and, still looking into his eyes, pushed gently to spread his knees, opening Sean’s legs. Sinking to the floor between his legs, David curled his legs under him sideways, rubbing his face against one of Sean’s thighs, his hand running up the other. Dropping one shoulder and turning slightly, David closed his eyes, rubbing higher on Sean’s inner thigh, feeling the muscles tense under his cheek and hand, until he reached his groin. 

  

  1. Sean’s hand pressed his head down, and David rubbed harder, curling in between Sean’s legs.
  



“Oh, very nice,” Sean breathed. His hands slipped down to David’s shoulders, and he pulled David to his knees. Sean leaned forward, kissed David deeply, and said. “Yes.” Then, “Viggo, do you want David to beg you?”

A pause, then Viggo said, “Yes.” 

David, surprised, heard an unfamiliar note in Viggo’s voice, twisting through the smoky gold, a note whose meaning he was uncertain of but exulted at hearing. 

Sean released him. David bowed his head, rose to his feet, turned, and walked toward Viggo. He knelt at Viggo’s feet, but when he gently pressed Viggo’s knees, they did not part. David looked up at Viggo a moment, searching his face. Pressing closer to his legs, David extended both hands, palms up, resting the hands on Viggo’s lap. After a moment, Viggo placed his hand in David’s. David turned Viggo’s hand over, holding in both his own, bent to the open palm, and kissed it. Leaning over, he rubbed his cheek against Viggo’s palm, then turned to speak, his lips moving against Viggo’s palm. “Your hands. Please, Master. On me.” 

After a moment, almost reluctantly, Viggo’s legs parted, and David let himself sink down, pressing inward, legs curled, but keeping his face pressed against Viggo’s palm. Viggo spoke, sounding almost amused. “Yes. Although I wonder just what you’d do if I said no.”

David stayed silent, unmoving.

Sean said, “You might want to wonder what I’m likely to do if you said no. David, where?”

David released Viggo’s hand, looked at Sean, confused.

“Where do you want to be? Bedroom? Here? Where?”

David thought. Remembering the other night, he said, “Under the cottonwood.”

Sean sighed, stood up. “I think you’re in love with that bloody tree. And if I wasn’t going to be on top, I’d say no. I’ll just go get a few…things.” Sean went indoors. 

Before the door swung shut, Viggo called after him, “Bring out the picnic blanket.”

Viggo ran his hand through David’s hair, resting it on his neck. David looked up. 

“I think you enjoyed that far too much,” Viggo said.

David shrugged. “I thought Sean was right. He did deserve a reward. First time he’s ever taken no the first time I said it and didn’t try to keep talking me into something. No rule says I couldn’t enjoy it as well.”

Viggo laughed. “I guess not. But…” He stopped.

David waited, but Viggo did not continue. The silence was not comfortable.

“But what?” David asked, feeling uneasy. He’d had some experience with Viggo when he started to say something then stopped. “What’s wrong?”

Viggo’s hand lifted off his neck, and David felt Viggo shift behind him. David rose to his knees, turned, leaned forward to brace his arms against the back of the chair on either side of Viggo. Looking into the blue eyes, David said, “Please don’t do this again. Tell me. Is there a problem?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  

  1. Viggo would either tell him or not.
  



Finally, slowly, Viggo spoke. “Sometimes, like just now, you seem to be, somehow, different with Sean than with me.”

David released Viggo, sat back on his heels, waited, thinking. “Do you think I’m faking? Lying?”

“Not really, but..”

Silence.

David thought back, tried to analyze what had just happened on the porch. Thought about some of their past games. He knew he did not lie, that the various performance bits were just for fun, just for the games. Maybe that was what Viggo meant. “Do you think it’s possible that it’s you and Sean who are different, respond differently?”

“How?”

David hoped Sean would not return just now. “I think Sean enjoys the games more than you, likes to extend some parts of the games outside of bed, and because of that, suspends disbelief, enters into them more while they’re happening.” David paused, looking at Viggo, who nodded, gestured for him to continue.

  

  1. What you said to me about saying no, then about how I enjoyed it, I don’t think Sean would ever say that.”
  



Viggo grinned. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist. I kept thinking about a cat a friend of mine had who always managed to con her out of extra food with a starvation routine.”

“Did the con ever work on you?”

“No.”

“You saw through it,” David said. “Sean could have, but didn’t want to. I had a cat just like that. Most cats try the same thing. But,” now it was David’s turn to hesitate, yet he knew he had to finish. “It’s not that the sex isn’t great, but the trappings, the scenes, the toys, don’t seem to appeal to you as much. I was surprised when you told Sean you wanted me to beg you.”

“So was I,” Viggo said. “And that’s when I realized…”

The porch door banged, and Sean appeared in the doorway.

“Where is the picnic blanket,” Sean said, sounding exasperated. 

“I don’t know,” Viggo said. “If it’s not handy, there’s another folded on the couch.”

Sean disappeared. 

David looked back at Viggo who smiled, pulled him up into a kiss. 

Frustrated, David pulled away, “When you realized what?” he asked.

Viggo sighed, then said quietly, resting his hands on David’s shoulders. “That I was perhaps a little jealous of what Sean and you have. Or what you create together, that maybe..”

David waited, increasingly aware that Sean could return at any moment. But Viggo said nothing more, just looked at him. 

“Look,” David said, getting one foot on the porch, starting to stand up, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, and maybe..”

Viggo’s hands closed hard around David’s upper arms and he pulled him sideways and up. David, caught off balance, fell awkwardly across Viggo’s lap, stopped from falling further only by the large wooden arm of the chair and Viggo’s hard hands. 

“Oh, I want to,” Viggo breathed, the look in his eyes striking David like a blow as he remembered the trailer, the woods in New Zealand. Viggo’s knees closed on David’s legs as Viggo took David’s mouth, hard and fast. David tasted blood.

Unable to breathe, David heard the slam of the screen door, and Sean say, “Holy shit.”

Viggo pulled back and, as David gasped for air, said, “Spread the blanket under the tree and strip, Sean. Now.”

A pause, then, “All right,” Sean said. David heard him leave the porch.

Viggo bit down, hard enough to make David jump, at the spot where his neck joined his shoulder. Biting, then sucking. David twisted, feeling himself getting hard, was disappointed when Viggo stopped.

Viggo slid David off his lap until he was kneeling on the porch between Viggo’s legs, hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, pressing down. 

Viggo pushed his chair back, stood, lifted his hands, then stepped around David to stand behind him.

“Stand up, David.”

David did. Viggo’s hands were on his arms, pulling them behind him. Viggo turned him, walked him across the porch and down the steps, across the grass, to where Sean had spread the blanket. Walked him to where Sean, naked, was standing, positioning David in front of Sean, then turning him around.

“Hold him, Sean, but not his arms.”

David felt Sean’s warm breath against the back of his neck, then his arms slid around David, one around his chest, the other lower, around his waist, Sean pressing close against his back. David shuddered, feeling Sean’s erection against him, Sean shifting until it pressed into his cleft. Sean’s arms tightened. He thrust forward. David let his head fall back.

Viggo’s hands slid through David’s hair, held his head, as he kissed him, pressing forward, hips pushing forward, the denim not masking his erection. David relaxed, going limp, held by Sean and Viggo, opened his mouth to Viggo.

Viggo pulled back, said, “Take off my shirt.”

David reached out, tugged the t-shirt out of Viggo’s jeans, pulled it up, Viggo raising his arms to let David tug it over his head. David dropped it. Viggo stepped back.

“On your knees.”

Sean snorted, shifting his weight behind David who could feel Sean’s legs spread, bracing. “At the same bloody time?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t ask for much, do you? All right, David, on three, just fall forward. One, two, three,” and Sean maneuvered them both down fairly easily. After a confused moment, David ended up kneeling, his legs together, Sean still holding him from behind, his knees and legs flanking David’s.

Viggo stepped close, said “Jeans.”

David undid his jeans, slid his hands inside, pushed the jeans down as far as he could. Viggo stepped out of them, kicking them aside. “Where’d you put your accessories, Sean?”

“Over there.”

Viggo stepped around Sean and David, moving closer to the tree. Still held firmly in Sean’s arms, David couldn’t exactly see where he was or what he was doing.

Sean caressed him, whispering, breath warm in David’s ear. “What the hell did you do while I was inside?”

David shrugged, shaking his head. It would take half an hour to try to explain it, he thought, if not more. Even if David understood it himself. Which he wasn’t sure he did. He thought he’d seen this side of Viggo a time or two before, though, and was hard at the memory. He wanted to see what would happen. He didn’t want to talk.

Viggo returned, handed David a handful of rings. “Put these on.”

David winced, reached down, but Viggo slid a hand behind his head. “Not on you. On me.”

David felt Sean tense behind him, looked up at Viggo. Who looked back. David selected what looked like the largest one, slid it onto Viggo, settling it as far down as he could. Did the same for the next four, felt himself hardening more with each ring he put on Viggo. Finished. Looked up at Viggo again.

Viggo looked down, smiling faintly. Held something David could not see over his shoulder. “Sean, here. Hold David’s arms and use this.”

“Yes. Sir.” Sean released David, shifted slightly, and a short while later wound one arm back around David’s arms and chest, holding him firmly. His other hand slid, slick and warm, between David’s cleft, one finger pushing gently in. David twitched, surprised, then relaxed against him.

Viggo’s hand slid down to his neck, and he moved closer. “Open your mouth, David.”

David closed his eyes, opened his mouth, felt the blunt warmth slide inside, the rings clicking against his teeth. David sucked, opened wider and tried to lean forward, but Viggo did not thrust forward, and Sean’s arm restricted David’s movement.

Sean’s fingers continued twisting inside David, thrusting in and out, and David thrust back, excitement flaring, sucking Viggo harder.

A few moments, then Viggo spoke again. David could hear the effort he made to sound normal. “David, lie down. On your back. Sean, hold his arms.”

David opened his mouth, felt Viggo withdraw. Sean released him, pulling out, moving back. Missing the warm bulk behind him, David sat, then lay down, extending his arms over his head. He kept his eyes closed. 

“Viggo, for Christ’s sake…”

“You can leave if you want, Sean.”

A pause, then David felt Sean’s hands grip his upper arms. 

Viggo’s hands were around his ankles, pushing his legs up, bending and spreading them. David moved easily, felt Viggo settle between his legs. Then his hands slid under David’s hips, lifting him, spreading him. David tried to relax as he felt Viggo press against him.

Sean spoke, a warning note clear in his voice. “Viggo.”

A pause, then Viggo spoke. “David. Look at me.”

David did.

“Do you want to say anything?” Viggo’s voice was serious.

David swallowed, closed his eyes, shook his head. 

Gently but inexorably, Viggo pressed forward, slowly working in. David forced himself to breathe deeply, relax more, could not help clenching a time or two. Viggo was patient, waiting, not forcing him, and David was grateful. The rings added girth, friction, a new sensation. 

Finally, Viggo was deep inside, rested a moment. David panted, regained his breath, rocked against him, felt a wave of pleasure.

Viggo pulled slowly back, thrust in again, moving more easily this time, and David’s head went back, his mouth opening. Sean kissed him as David moaned.

Viggo’s arms were firm against David as he began to move faster, pushing as deeply as he could, in and out, pressure and heat growing, David twisting, straining against the warm arms, against Sean’s mouth, against Viggo’s body, trying to break the surface, to breathe, to break free, to lose himself.

The ground under him tilted, transforming, the illusion of the firm surface that held them up blazing away under the flames of motion, the roiling shifts of liquid heat licking away at the cold darkness, energy transformed to movement, darkness to light.

He drowned in sensation, lost in time, the dark behind his eyelids offering no escape, his body caught, reformed, transported in pleasure. He cried out though he could hear no sound, convulsed into pleasure so great it became pain which pulled him through both into solid light.

Much later, David swam into slow awareness of Viggo’s weight on him, Sean’s hands. 

Viggo rose, said, “Sean?”

Sean’s hands disappeared. After a pause, he spoke. “I don’t think so, Vig. I don’t want to follow that.”

Sean’s hand stroked his head. “David, are you all right?

David nodded, not opening his eyes, rolled over to lie on his belly, head resting on his folded arms, trembling, aftershocks shooting through his body.

“David, is it all right if I go inside?”

David was confused. Why was Sean asking him. “Sure,” he mumbled.

“I mean, do you want to come with me? Or do you want to stay out here with Viggo?”

Oh. David understood. He was more than half tempted to go with Sean, but remembering what Viggo had said, he didn’t. 

“No, you can go.”

“Consider this me going fishing,” Sean said, a little grimly. “I’m going to go check my email. If you’re not inside in an hour, I’ll be back to see why you two haven’t worked things out.” 

David heard Sean’s footsteps on the porch, the door slam, but did not move. He lay on the scratchy blanket, feeling the breeze on his skin again, remembering the other day when things had seemed simple. 

He thought vaguely that somebody should say something, but he couldn’t seem to think of anything. He could hear Viggo breathing, but he didn’t seem inclined to say anything either. 

There was no way to measure the time Sean had given them. David thought of the discussion, the clock, the plan to divide dominance by time, realized vaguely that somehow it had never come up again—no discussion, no clear sense of who was dominant, as if Viggo and Sean were just handing it off to each other by choice, not by schedule. Or somehow sharing it? Viggo had certainly claimed it this afternoon. Or perhaps it didn’t really matter.

Finally, his breathing seemed to be slowing, and his heart no longer felt it would pound out of his chest. Still no one spoke. 

David wondered if they would just lie here for whatever time it took Sean to decide to come back out. He told himself he should open his eyes, look at Viggo at least. Try to see. Maybe later.

A warm hand settled on his lower back, and David flinched. The hand moved up higher, rubbing his shoulders. David relaxed slightly. 

“David?” Viggo’s voice was low, familiar again.

David turned his head and opened his eyes. Viggo was close, lying on his side next to him.

“What…?” David asked. “Why…?” he didn’t know what he wanted to say.

Viggo hesitated, then spoke slowly. “What you said earlier, about Sean’s and my attitude toward games?”

“Yeah,” David said.

“You didn’t say anything about yours.” 

“Mine?” David shifted under Viggo’s hand.

  

  1. And you’re a good actor.”
  



David closed his eyes. He’d heard Viggo talk about this often and even agreed with him. But he didn’t think he liked what the implications were here and now.

“And I think I started feeling what I did because I think you want more of what Sean does, you want that kind of dominance. More often than not.”

“But,” David shuddered, stopped. Viggo’s hand was warm and light on his back, no pressure, but it felt like a trap. David wanted to get up and get dressed and go inside. He forced himself to lie still, not to roll away from Viggo, grab his clothes, and walk away. Some of what had happened with Hugh replayed itself, and David swallowed and opened his eyes.

Viggo’s hand shifted to his shoulder, and he gently pulled David over. David stayed limp and let Viggo roll him over on his back, onto his arm, lean over him, hand on his chest, holding him.

  

  1. Am I wrong?” 
  



David bit his lip, trapped in blueness. Viggo waited. David suddenly thought Viggo would be willing to wait out whatever was left of Sean’s time limit. And maybe beyond.

“No,” David finally whispered. “You’re not wrong.”

David closed his eyes again. Viggo did not speak.

Some time later, David heard the door slam, footsteps on the porch. 

“Viggo? David?”

David opened his eyes. “Let me go?” he asked Viggo.

Viggo released him. David stood, said “I need a shower.” 

He walked to the porch, scooping his clothes up, passed Sean who was standing near the railing.

“Have you worked things out?”

“I don’t know. Ask Viggo.”

David walked inside, went upstairs and straight into a hot shower. As hot as he could stand it. Then cold. He dried himself off, went to get clean clothes. Sneakers not boots.

Back downstairs where he could see the sun sinking behind the mountain through the kitchen window. Nobody in the kitchen. David walked to the door. Sean was in the library, comfortable in one of the big chairs, reading. He looked up as David reached the door.

“David, are you all right?”

“I’m going for a walk,” David said.

A pause, then, “Well, watch out for bears. And try to avoid getting lost.”

“I’ll stay on the road.”

“In that case, watch out for people. They all drive on the wrong side.”

David made it through the door and down the hill without seeing Viggo. He stopped a moment, turned left, and started walking along the gravel road. Within a few moments, he was out of sight of the house, hills rising on both sides of him. Dusk, the sense of light fading although it was not yet dark, and he could see a clear light in the western sky when he looked behind him.

Along the flat, then up again. David stopped when a howl floated up beside him, breath stopping. More voices joined in, moving from repeated yips to full-throated yowls. Coyotes. They’d heard them most nights although the sound was different when he was inside the house. The first night, he’d thought they might be dogs, but there was a wildness in the song that he could clearly hear now. No dog could sound like that.

David kept walking, trying not to think, immersing himself in the sounds and scents. The dampness near the streams. Green grass that had been under the sun all day. The sweet strains of wildflowers. The spiciness of trees. Dust from the road underlying it all. A star was visible in front of him.

He had to force himself to deal with what he’d been trying not to think about. Viggo wasn’t wrong. And the problem wasn’t so much what Viggo had realized, but that he’d realized it. David was used to being the observer, a bit detached, analyzing people, able to talk about what he saw with people, a surface openness which was actually very good protection in many ways. He used the ability to create his characters, of course, but it carried over into his life. 

He’d found early on people liked to talk about themselves with others. Focusing on themselves, they often did not pay as close attention to the other person. For Viggo to turn that on David, to see so clearly what David had not seen or had chosen not to see, he wasn’t sure, to identify a change or if not a change in David, a part of himself he’d not acknowledged before, was…..different. As was the strength of the connection implied by Viggo’s perception. What David had to decide was what he felt about that difference. And the connection.

Finally, after all light had faded except for the stars, David turned back. It seemed to take longer to return which could have just meant he was tired, feeling the aches throughout his body left by the day’s activities. 

Walking up the hill, he heard the horses tearing grass in the field next to the driveway. Lights were on in the house, more than usual, porch, kitchen, shining through all the windows he could see. As usual, the house door was unlocked, and David turned into the kitchen. The house was quiet. The grandfather clock told him it was 10:30.

He was suddenly hungry.

Opening the refrigerator, he found cheese and apples. He put them on the counter, found the bread, and made himself a thick sandwich. Poured a glass of milk. Stood in the kitchen eating and drinking.

  

  1. Viggo had on different clothes, worn jeans, frayed and with holes, stained with many colors of paints, a white t-shirt, also stained and worn.
  



Viggo spoke quietly. “David, are you all right?” He stood with one hand braced against the door, almost as if holding himself back, forcing himself not to enter the room.

“I think so,” David said. “Although I’ve completely failed at what I was trying to do.”

“Which was?” Viggo’s voice was neutral.

“Run away from myself.”

Viggo’s arm dropped, and he moved a few steps into the kitchen, leaned back against the wall. He smiled at David. “I’ve never been able to successfully do that either,” he said. “But it sometimes took me a lot longer to figure it out.”

“Well, I had some help.”

Viggo held out his hand. David walked the few steps necessary to take it, was pulled forward into a hug, stood breathing in the scent of Viggo and paint.

“That’s better.” Sean’s voice behind him.

David turned to see him standing on the stairs, wearing a pair of red shorts, leaning over the banister.

“It’s awfully cold and lonely up there,” Sean said. “So I hope you two are planning to come to bed. Now.”

At the mention of bed, David yawned hugely. “I am,” he said.

Viggo released him, gave him a gentle push toward the stairs. “You two go on up. I want to finish what I’m working on.”

“What is it?” Sean asked.

“I’ll show you tomorrow. Now go to bed and get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” David said, moving toward the stairs. 

**Day Six: Core**

(core -- That portion of the interior of the Earth that lies beneath the mantle, and goes all of the way to the center. The Earth's core is very dense, rich in iron and the source of the magnetic field. http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/glossary/gloss2geol.html)

"David."

A pause.

"DAVID." Louder. 

David was dragged reluctantly up out of sleep. He tried to roll over and couldn't move. 

"Whazzant?" he said, pushing the pillow and covers away, raising his head. He was lying in bed on his side, held in somebody's arms. He looked down groggily, saw paint spatters on the arms, said, "Viggo?"

Couldn't be. Viggo always got up at dawn. Unless it was dawn. In which case he'd kill them.

"David, it's after noon." The voice came from behind him, but not from the bed. Sean.

David turned his head, saw Viggo lying spooned close behind him, hair over his face, and Sean in the doorway beyond, leaning against the doorframe. 

David shook his head. Still there. Swallowed, licked his lips, forced himself to speak coherently. "What's going on?"

Sean straightened up, strolled over to the bed and sat down next to Viggo. Viggo still hadn't moved, but his arms tightened around David, and he mumbled something, breath warm against David's back.

"Don't ask me. I was just waking up around 6:30 when Viggo staggered in, threw his clothes off, and fell into bed. Grabbed you like a lifeline and was fathoms deep the next minute."

"You get up at 6:30?" David thought he sounded like an idiot, but anybody choosing to get up at that hour was insane.

"Most days, yes. And we know you don't," Sean leaned over, patted David on the head. "As I was saying, Viggo collapsed. I got up, took care of the horses, had breakfast. Now I'm wondering if I should make some sort of meal for us all, or if you two are planning to sleep all day. Or what. After all," Sean grinned. "I could always come back to bed for a nice....nap. If that's the group consensus."

"Uh-huh," David said vaguely, still trying to make sense of things. He could not remember ever waking up in daylight with Viggo sleeping next to him. It felt odd.

"I'm hungry," he said, realizing it was true. 

Sean said, "So, you'd like to eat something?"

"Yeah. After a shower."

"Shall we try to detach Viggo first?"

"Good idea." David wiggled experimentally, then, when nothing happened, tried to tug Viggo's arm away from his chest. It didn't work.

Sean shook Viggo's shoulder first gently, then a little harder. "Viggo. Come on, Viggo. Wake up."

Viggo released David, rolled away. "What time is it?"

David thought he sounded normal.

"About 12:30. Did you work all night?"

"I think so." A yawn.

David rolled over. Viggo was lying on his back between David and Sean, looking, as far as David could tell, happy enough.

"Are you all right?" David asked, still not believing what he was seeing.

"A little tired maybe." Another yawn, and Viggo stretched his arms above his head. "I don't remember the last time I stayed up all night."

Sean snorted, opened his mouth, and Viggo continued, "Painting." 

Sean said, "Are you hungry? I came up to see if you wanted to eat. If so, I'm volunteering to cook."

"What?"

"Something. Whatever I find in the kitchen."

"All right." 

Sean stood, left the room, shaking his head.

David looked at Viggo who looked back. David couldn't think of anything to say, or couldn't decide what of too many things he should say. 

Finally, he asked, "What were you working on last night?" It seemed safest.

Viggo smiled at him. "I'll show you after we eat."

David shrugged, and said, "OK. I'm going to take a shower."

He rolled out of bed and went down the hall to the bathroom. Maybe a very hot shower would help his brain start working again. And maybe that would help him get through the day.

* * * * * * *

Sean had indeed made…something, David decided. As far as he could tell, Sean had used the largest of Viggo's cast iron skillets, chopped up and dumped in bacon, potatoes, onions, mushrooms, then stirred eggs in vigorously and melted cheese on top. It was delicious, but nothing that David would have expected. A large pot of strong tea and toast were also provided. 

David ate more than his share. He was rarely hungry in the morning or whenever he woke up, but had not eaten much since lunch yesterday. And Viggo wasn't eating much. As David was spreading honey on the last piece of toast, Sean came back to the table after clearing the plates. Pouring more tea, he said, "So when will you be showing us this mysterious work?"

Viggo tilted his chair back, setting his empty mug down. "As soon as David finishes," he said. 

David looked up to find Sean watching him, and finished the toast as quickly as he could, washing the last bites down with his tea. He rose and followed Viggo into the studio, Sean trailing behind them.

The mess seemed even more overwhelming than the last time David had been in this room. Viggo led them across to where a canvas sat on an easel. 

It was not large, perhaps two by one foot. No frame.

The first thing David noticed was a swirl of cottonwood leaves twining from top left to bottom right, as if the wind had blown them from a tree, twisting from green to white, curling like a wave, catching sunlight from the clearing beyond. 

A tree stood in the clearing, different from but clearly based on the cottonwood in Viggo's yard, massive trunk, branches going in all directions, not bound by the frame of the picture, but extending beyond it. The wave of leaves half masked, half revealed, the tree.

The season seemed to be fall. Some of the were branches bare, leaves being blown from the others and moving into the front of the picture. 

Then David shifted and saw something else, a figure standing by, no, within, no, leaning on the tree, naked, back to the viewer, facing the tree, arms stretched up as if embracing the trunk, head turned to the right, in profile, eyes closed. David shifted with his next breath, and the figure disappeared, melting into the tree. 

David blinked, moved a step closer. The main colors were green and silver. Grey and white. Sunlight filtered through leaves, the green and white of the leaves, the grey and white of the bark, green grass below. The figure's skin, white and the palest of green, glimpsed again apparently within the tree. The figure was either bound in the tree or attempting to merge with it. David could not tell. 

David reached out a hand, wanting to touch, to see if the depth and layers he perceived were there, were part of a collage, or were perspective created in paint. Could Viggo have used actual leaves? The leaves in the front looked as if the white sides had the velvety texture he'd felt when he picked one up.

Viggo's hand gripped his wrist. "The paint's still wet," he said. "I'll have to ship it to you, you won't be able to pack it."

"It's mine?" David was stunned by the impact of the painting and by the gift.

"Hell, it is you." Sean's arms circled David's body, his chin resting on David's shoulder, holding him from behind. "You and that bloody tree. I know it."

"What?" David tried to turn, look at Sean, but could not. He looked at Viggo instead who shrugged, still holding David loosely, hand warm, thumb caressing his inner wrist.

"Is that what it is?"

"I never tell people what they're supposed to see in my work," Viggo said.

Sean said, "I think I'm jealous. Don't I get a painting? To be in a painting?"

"You already have one. Are in one. Maybe two."

"But you won't tell me which one it is. And it's abstract."

"I told you, you have to choose."

David was even more confused, and his state of mind wasn't helped by Sean's grip and the erection he could feel pressing against him.

"What?"

Sean said, "He did those two paintings up in the bedroom while we were together in Wellington, then told me that one was for me, and one for him. But that I had to choose."

David thought of the two paintings on opposite walls, facing each other over the bed, the cool blues, white, and grey facing the passion or anger or both of the red and black. "You had to choose?"

Sean's arms tightened. "Yeah. Tell him what you told me, Viggo."

Viggo shrugged. "I thought one was more about him, the other, me, but I wasn't really sure which was which at the time. I'm still not."

"Can you believe that? Have you looked at the two of them?" Sean asked.

"I looked at them," David said. That was about all he wanted to risk at this point.

"So you could say I chose not to break up the set. And then he hung them in his bloody bedroom."

Viggo smiled, tugged at David's wrist, pulling them both a step closer. "Would you prefer them hanging somewhere else--like in the bathroom?"

Sean sighed loudly. "You're not going to hang David's up there as well?" he asked.

"If David wants me to." 

David stood, staring still at the, at his, painting.

"Do you David?"

No. David wanted it. He wanted to see it every day.

"No," he said after a moment. "I don't."

* * * * * * *

Sean insisted they go upstairs to look at the two paintings. David agreed, wanting to look at them with this new information in mind. Viggo shrugged and led them up the stairs.

In the bedroom, Viggo sat on the bed. Sean, standing in the doorway, apparently addressing the whole room, asked, "Could you choose?"

David, standing close to the red and black painting, turned and looked at the other one. He shook his head at the thought of having to choose. Remembered the flight over the mountains, the story about the volcano. Remembered the opening sequence of The Two Towers when the view moved from high in quiet air over mountains down the cliff and inside the rock where flames roared from an abyss.

"It's like Caradhras, like the mountains over Moria," he said suddenly. All four elements in the two paintings, earth, air, fire, water.

"Which one?" Sean turned to him, intent.

"Both."

"What?" Sean frowned at him. 

Viggo looked from Sean to David, said nothing.

"Inside, the fire and the abyss, and the outside, the mountain covered with snow in sunlight. It just depends what the perspective is. They're both the mountain."

Viggo raised an eyebrow, looked at David. "Nobody's ever said that before," he said. "That's interesting."

"So which one should I choose? Which one do you think is more about me?" Sean asked.

David moved back toward the window, out from between the two paintings. "I don't know," he said. 

"Viggo?" 

"What?"

"Is David right?"

Viggo shrugged, opened his mouth, but Sean interrupted him. 

"OK, I know, you don't believe there's any one correct interpretation. But hell…in this case, can't you say something? Give me a hint?"

"I could if I knew, but I don't. Even when I was painting them, I wasn't sure which was which, just that it was somehow about us." 

"Bloody artistic temperament."

"Sorry."

David thought Viggo didn't look particularly sorry, but that he had sounded as frustrated as Sean at not knowing which was which.

Sean straightened up, smiled, seeming to shrug the whole question off. "Well, they'll just have to stay together then," he said. "Until somebody can figure it out."

He walked toward David, slid a hand over his shoulder and around his neck, down his chest, pulled him around. "And what I'm beginning to wonder," he said, "is why we're spending time discussing aesthetics when we could be fucking."

Sean pulled David close, sliding his other arm around his waist, holding him tight.

"David, you want to pick out some nice toys to play with?" Sean's tongue slid into David's ear.

David closed his eyes, nodded.

"Viggo, do you want to play?"

A pause, then "Yes."

Sean released David, pushed him toward the bag sitting in the other corner of the room. 

David went to the bag, knelt down, opened it. The first thing he saw were the ropes Sean had bought for him, neatly coiled. He thought about the past few days. What Viggo had said. 

David pushed the ropes aside. Found two sets of cuffs, each lined and padded, joined by a chain. Remembering what Sean had told him, he searched and found what he was looking for. He picked them up, rose to his feet, and turned to hold them out to Sean.

“These,” David said.

Silence. Sean stood, staring at the cuffs in David’s hands, the chains looped below, and, at the lowest part of the loop, the key attached to each chain with a twist tie. 

Sean looked at David, green eyes shining, stepped close and reached out to grab David in a crushing hug, the cuffs and chains caught between their bodies. 

Then he pulled back, staring into David’s eyes, and spoke. “Really?” 

Viggo rose from the bed and crossed the room to stand next to them. “David? Are you sure?”

David said, “Yes. I am.” 

Then he spoke directly to Sean. “The other rules still apply. The safe word means stop, and there’s no hitting, slapping, wounding,” he said firmly. “Right?”

“Whatever you say, love,” Sean said, taking the cuffs out of David’s hands.

Looking at Viggo, David said one thing more. “And you both have to be there."

Viggo nodded slowly, once, eyes intent on David.

Sean moved to the bed to thread the chains through the rings. Kneeling on the bed, he said, "Viggo, do you want to undress him and bring him over here?"

Viggo stepped closer, placed his hands on David's waist. Tugged his shirt out of his jeans, pushed it up, hands sliding against David's skin. David raised his arms, let Viggo pull the shirt off. He dropped it on the floor, slid his arms around David and pulled him close for a kiss. David's eyes closed as Viggo's lips brushed his, softly, then firmed, pressing, opening, tongue curling inside.

Hands slid under his jeans, around, to undo them, push them down. 

Viggo stepped back, knelt, pushing David's jeans all the way down. David opened his eyes, stepped out of them.

Viggo's hands ran back up his legs. David arched his back slightly, hardening, hopeful, but Viggo just stood, hands running up David's body to his shoulders, down his arms. 

Holding David's wrists, Viggo tugged him over to the bed, turned them until David's back was to the bed, to Sean, moved David up against the bed, pushed gently down, stood a moment, hands on his shoulders.

David closed his eyes, relaxed.

"Ready?"

"Uh-huh."

Viggo pressed back, and David let himself fall into Sean's arms. Working together, Sean at his shoulders, Viggo's hands under his legs, they maneuvered him into the center of the bed. 

Sean took David's left arm, raised it over his head, held his wrist a moment, closed the cuff on it. The snap and click was loud in the quiet room. Sean's hand ran down David's arm, the other hand holding David's. David felt Sean's lips and tongue against his palm.

  
  



"Viggo?"

Viggo lifted David's right arm, cuffed him. Moved to his ankle and did the same. 

David stretched, tugged, testing. The padded cuffs were more comfortable than he'd expected, the chains more restricting than ropes. Less give.

He shifted his hips to a more comfortable position, centered his body.

A hand on his cheek. "David?" Sean's voice.

David opened his eyes, looked at Sean. 

"What other toys do you want?"

"You pick," David said.

Sean leaned down, holding David’s head between his hands, and kissed him deeply. Pulling back only a bit, he spoke, his lips brushing David’s. “No speaking,” he ordered. Then, “Can I blindfold you?”

David nodded. 

Sean traced his lips with a finger. “What about a gag?” 

“All right.”

Sean crossed the room, rummaged around in the case, and returned with a blindfold made of what looked like black velvet. David closed his eyes just before Sean slipped it on, then opened them against the softness. Total blackness, no hint of light. David turned his head, but the soft material clung to his face, did not shift. 

David made himself breathe deeply, calming yoga breaths, ignoring the small sounds and rustles around him for the moment.

David had not used a blindfold for years. He'd tried it once with the lover who'd introduced him to bondage games, but didn't like it, had never chosen it again. He now realized it was because he relied so much on seeing body language, faces, expressions, the non-verbal cues that actors had to study to create characters through more than just speaking words written for them. 

He could have said no the blindfold, as he had to the gag. He didn’t like not being able to see how people were reacting, to use that information to guide his actions. He tensed, ready to ask Sean to take it off, hovering on the edge of asking Sean to stop right now, thinking he wasn’t ready for this.

Knew he wanted to go on. Knew the blindfold would help.

David felt them join him on the bed, jouncing, one on either side, he didn’t know which.

A warm mouth descended on his in a slow kiss, lips and tongue caressing, before moving down his neck, onto his chest. A short beard. Viggo. 

Hands stroked up his legs, thighs, circling, moving forward, then retreating. 

David arched his back, impatient, but the hands withdrew, returned to push him down flat, hold him down, pressing against belly and thighs. As one sucked his nipples, the other trailed his tongue lightly up David’s erection.

The warm mouth began sucking, gently, tongue teasing up and down. A hand slid between his thighs, cradling, one finger pressing up against him. Wet fingers circled, then pinched his nipples as another warm mouth sucked then bit hard at his neck. 

David gave up all idea of controlling his breathing, arched up hard against the chains, against their hands, their weight, twisting, his inability to see intensifying the sensations. 

Not knowing who was doing what, knowing only that both Sean and Viggo bent over him, made it even more exciting. Moaning on his outgoing breaths, he panted. A mouth, Viggo's, he could always tell Viggo's kiss, took his, and David cried out, thrust up.

He knew the safe word would stop it, unlock the chains, but somehow the locked cuffs made him feel freer than the ropes ever had, and he pulled hard, twisting.

Hands pushed from underneath, behind, turned his twist into a turn, and he found himself on his side, held, braced against the chains, warm hands holding him from behind, a warm body, Viggo's, pressing close in front. 

Viggo's arm slid under him, around his shoulders, and his other hand gripped David's hair, holding his head, still kissing. Hands, Sean's, ran down his back, pressing David closer to Viggo, chest, hips, legs. 

A warm slick finger slid inside David, opening, twisting, pressing against him. Impatient, David thrust back, heard Sean laugh.

A moment more, then David felt Sean press inside, pushing deep, arms tight around David's ribs, Viggo's leg sliding between David's, pressing up. Sean's thrusts pushed David into Viggo who thrust back, and he was held tightly between them, wrapped in their arms, hands holding him, arched between the chains, strung between two poles, falling free of gravity, heat within meeting air without to create flame.

Hands and mouth moved up, body pressing against his, containing his, mouth pushing his open. Limp, he felt heat within, saw coils of red and black intertwine with lights of blue and white, combine to explode in a spasm which flung him out of himself.

**Core: Day Seven**

David stretched, rolling his shoulders, flexing his hands. 

Sean lay in front of him, naked, face down, relaxed, skin gleaming. David smiled, stretched out beside him. Sean had been making pathetic noises about the lack of backrubs in his life for several days. So, after breakfast, David had dragged him upstairs for one. Sean had made appreciative noises throughout.

Sean turned his head, looked at David. "Why don't I just take you home with me," Sean said, "and keep you in the bedroom for daily backrubs?"

David shrugged, said, "Sorry, I have this other day job. You know how it is."

"Oh, well, then, we'll have to go to Plan B."

"Plan B?"

"Sure," Sean said. "Next time you visit, I'll just chain you to the bed….and lose the key."

David snickered. "I see one flaw in this plan."

  
"Which is?"

"Hard to give a backrub to anyone when you're chained down. Easy to get a backrub, obviously, but the backrubber is then free to walk out leaving the backrubbee chained to the bed."

"Hmm." 

David closed his eyes, relaxing.

At some point today, they'd pack and drive to a hotel near the airport in Spokane. Rather than try to drive 300 miles to make a plane, he and Sean would be catching planes tomorrow. 

They'd stay in the hotel tonight and be able to start the flights more or less rested. Less, probably, because, remembering the last time he'd been in a hotel room with Sean, David didn't expect to get a full night's sleep. Sean liked hotel rooms. He claimed they stimulated his imagination.

"I now have Plan C," Sean said. 

David smiled, his eyes closed. He could feel Sean shift closer to him, warm skin smooth against David, one hand smoothing down his back.

"Are you going to share it with me?" David asked.

"I lose the key after I've put the cuff on your ankle. Chained up with hands free. Backrubs forever." Sean's hand rubbed David's back. He sighed, stretching.

"I don't know," David said. "Might be hard to get backrubs without full and informed consent. Hard to enforce compliance, you might say."

Sean's hand slid a bit lower as did his voice. "Hard to enforce? You're chained to a bed, David. Think about it."

David felt himself harden, held his breath, went very still under Sean's hand.

Sean's hands moved to his shoulders, turning him over to lie on his back. David kept his eyes closed, let his head fall back, felt Sean's leg pressing down on his, his hands on his shoulders. Mouth brushing his ear. "You like that, don't you, David? Not necessarily to do, but to think about. Talk about. Fantasize. I remember talking about the sling back in New Zealand. You liked the idea."

David tensed. He had. Didn't want it in reality, but liked Sean talking about it. Had brought himself off on the fantasy often since then.

"I wonder…." Sean's arm dropped on his chest, pinning him, and David felt warm breath against his neck as Sean leaned over him. 

Spoke softly. "Imagine this. The same cuffs we used yesterday. I have the only key. You're spread face down across the bed in my spare room, chained to the bedposts. Arms and legs wide open. You can't move, except maybe to turn your head. You're all mine. I can walk in and fuck you any time I want, every time I want."

  
David shuddered, so hard, so fast, hearing the tone in Sean's voice, feeling the weight of his arm and leg. Clenched, heart beating faster, breath catching, feeling pleasure echo within.

Sean's voice lowered, lips moving against David's skin.

"I gag you. You can't speak. Can't beg. Can't say yes or no. There's no safe word in any case. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. It's not a game anymore. I'll put the plug in, set it deep, twist it."

Moaning, David twisted, throbbing, tried to move his arm, but Sean held him firmly. "No hands, David. Just listen." 

But one of Sean's hand moved down, pressing on David's belly. His breath left his lungs, and he had to gasp for more.

"The plug stays in between times, so you're always open, ready for me. Sometimes I walk in, take you immediately, fuck you so hard and fast and deep you don't know what's happening."

David knew it, knew what it would feel like, hitched his hips, muscles tight in belly and thighs. Yes.

"Sometimes, I'm lazy, want to take my time, start by sliding my hand between your legs, holding your balls, one at a time, squeezing, then rubbing your cock. I lie there for an hour, fucking you slowly with a dildo, taking breaks to stroke your cock, seeing how close I can bring you to the edge and not let you come."

Pressure building inside, from deep inside, welling up, pushing at the walls.

"And maybe…maybe I want to show you off, show what a good fuck you are, so one night when I'm down at the pub, I bring home a couple of my mates who don't believe what I've been saying about you, and prove it to them."

David moaned at the thought, felt Sean's teeth and tongue against the skin of his neck.

"You're fucking mine, so I can let them have you once just to prove it, just to show them what they're missing. And I'll sit on the bed and watch as they strip down, suck each other hard, and take turns with you."

Fire burned through David.

"These are football mates, in top shape, who say they can fuck longer than most. And they want to show off for each other. And for me. And when they shove in and feel you clenched around them, they go on and on…"

It was coming, he could feel it, held his breath.

"And when they're done and gone, I'll come back and fuck you so hard and long you forget about them, forget about everything else…"

Sean bit his throat, his left hand leaving David's shoulder, moving down to enfold him, squeezing hard, once, and David came, feeling Sean's hand pressing down, holding him.

Panting, David lay still in Sean's hold, embarrassed to open his eyes, see Sean's face.

After some time, Sean shifted. Then, "That was interesting," Sean said. "David. Open your eyes."

Reluctantly David did, knowing he was turning red. "Interesting" wasn't quite the word he would have chosen, he thought.

Then watched, fascinated, as Sean brought his left hand up slowly to lick it clean, tongue sliding over palm, curling around and between fingers. Then placing his damp hand against David's cheek, turning his head slightly, Sean said, "I've been wanting to try that for a while." 

Sean kissed David, slow and deep. David opened his mouth eagerly, tasting himself and Sean.

Finally, Sean released him, sliding over to recline beside him, hand still against David's cheek.

"You liked that," Sean said softly. "You'd probably like that kind of scene."

David shook his head slightly. "I like it as a fantasy," he said. "But that's different from wanting it in real life."

Sean grinned, "'Some things are better left fantasies,'" he said, emphasizing the quote by mimicking Viggo's voice. "Viggo told you that."

"He said it, but I agree."

"I don't. If you can get off by fantasizing about something, how much better would it be to do it?"

David shook his head. "No," he said firmly.

Sean shrugged. "Oh, well," he said. "We'll see. I brought Viggo around, so…"

"I thought I had something to do with that," David surprised himself by interrupting him. "And now you know Andy did too."

"Sure, but you weren't there when I met Viggo. Talk about a hardass. I softened him up for you."

David rolled his eyes. "I can hardly wait to hear Viggo's version of this," he said, pushing himself up and rolling off the bed. "When we have several hours to spare."

Sean laughed, and threw a pillow which David ducked.

"I want to shower and pack," he said, then picked the pillow up and threw it back at Sean as he turned to leave. By luck or chance, he managed to send it straight into Sean's face.

* * * * * * *

After he showered, dressed, and packed, David walked downstairs, slowly. The smooth stairs and floor were cool under his bare feet. Sean hadn't been in the bedroom when David got out of the shower, and he didn't see him in the kitchen either. Looking out the window, he could see Viggo standing on the porch, the beauty of the fields and trees and sky beyond him.

David walked out to the porch. Viggo didn't turn at the sound of the door closing. Without speaking, David walked up to him, slid his arms around him in a hug.

Viggo placed one warm hand on top of David's, made a small contented sound in his throat, and leaned back slightly.

They stood there a while, silent, surrounded by the sounds of wind and birds, as David wondered, not for the first time, just what he'd gotten himself into. 

**Author's Note:**

> I grew up in northern Idaho. I don't know and don't care where Viggo's place in Idaho was because I've set it in in a place where my best friend used to live and where I loved visiting.


End file.
